


What Will You Do

by WishingStarInAJar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1920s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mafiafell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mafiatale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mobtale (Undertale), Angst, Bara Sans (Undertale), Blood and Violence, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fear Play, Graphic Violence, Groping, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Intimidation, Molestation, Possessive Sans (Undertale), Prejudice, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smoking, Soul Sex, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, humans in the underground, sans is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingStarInAJar/pseuds/WishingStarInAJar
Summary: Who'd expect flowers to attract danger, pain and monsters? Not Emily, no, but that's what she got after she started working as an assistant shop keeper and florist at the "A Dozen Daisies For You" flower shop. Her dream job turned into a walking nightmare dominated by mobsters and monsters, and all because one of them couldn't keep his filthy hands off her.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Papyrus (Undertale)/Original Character(s), Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Original Character(s), Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 128
Kudos: 417





	1. Flower Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This spin on the mafia and 1920s themed alternate universes for Toby Fox's Undertale is a self-indulgent work. It was written for my own pleasure but I hope it will be an enjoyable read for others.
> 
> Please check the tags before you read, there are some warning tags. New tags will be added over the course of the story when needed or appropriate. English isn't my native language so please forgive me for any odd formulations or spelling mistakes. If you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them though I won't spoil future chapters and events. Thank you!
> 
> "What Will You Do" is heavily inspired by @StaringBack's story "Sooner Or Later You're Gonna Be Mine", the comic drawn by Cutthroat-Jutsu @ Tapas and the comic dub by Vade @ Youtube. Please check these out! The writing, art and voice acting are amazing.

Edge City, a large city a stone throw away from Mount Ebott. This was her home for as long as she could remember. She was born and raised in this city and loved it dearly but it was no longer as peaceful or safe as it once was. Not since the barrier was broken nearly six years ago. 

Most human children these days learn about the Peace Pact in school, the day the war between humans and monsters ended. A peace treaty was signed to end the feud which had lasted for so long that children back then believed actual monsters weren’t real. Nothing but bedtime stories. Even she had her doubts. They were told so by the older generations and most believed it. The treaty, however… She was certain it was done with the purest intentions but one does not easily erase people’s paranoia and fear for the unknown. Even after five years of adapting and facing that scary unknown that are monsters and the Underground, humans judged monsters just as hard as they judged humans. There was a too big divide between the two races, no matter how hard one may try to overlook it.

The truth of the matter was that life became uneasy once humans and monsters could freely mingle. There always was tension present in the air no matter where you went, especially in Edge City.

Mt. Ebott was the gateway to the Underground, the ancestral home of the monsters and with Edge City (as its name implied) was near the edge of where the barrier once was, it attracted all the attention. As soon as the magical barrier was down and there were no signs of betrayal and slaughter, some monsters began seeking new and better opportunities in the human city closest to the Underground.

That must have looked swell on paper but it wasn’t in reality. 

Many people can’t share. Don’t know the concept of it. While there were gangs present in this city before the Peace Pact, they multiplied like rabbits once monsters were able to set foot in this place. No human mobster or don wanted to share their territory or give a small piece up for a monster, let alone another human. Turf wars became a part of Edge City’s life and with it, racism and criminality peaked at an all-time high. The streets were unsafe at night and only somewhat safer during the day. Plenty of shops got boarded up, establishments providing entertainment gone or taken over by filth. Missing posters adorned many empty walls and poles. Children, teens, adults… no age range was safe from the greedy dons and their underlings or the poor who became too desperate for coin.

Throughout these past five years, life hadn’t been easy for the people of Edge City but many tried to make the best of it or save up enough money to finally leave this place. Emily was one of those people, one of the humans who tried to just live her life and reach the future they dreamed of. Was she judgmental of monsters? She was in a way but she had her reasons for it. She still tolerated them. If they were kind to her, she returned that kindness. No fuss, no muss. It was that simple.

Her life was average. She wasn’t exactly poor or starving but it would be a lie to say she wasn’t balancing on the edge. She lived in a neighborhood where crime made a living but was less active than in other parts of the city. For one, her family didn’t need to pay a monthly protection fee which was a miracle in this city if you weren’t stinking rich. She at times wondered if her father’s job had a hand in that or if the people in charge of the neighborhood were merciful. She hoped for the latter.

Emily adjusted her beret and gently pushed up the messy chignon her long wispy silver blonde hair was tied up in, deeply inhaling the city air after enduring the typical stuffy smell of the bus. She was on her way to work and she looked forward to it. While the bus ride was unpleasant during the early but busy morning hours and she lived on the other side of Edge City, she was one of the lucky few in life who managed to land a dream job.

Down the street of the bus stop was a florist shop, small and quaint and hardly drawing any attention to itself. It was run by an elderly gentleman called Edward Franklin, the poor soul far beyond retiring but he kept the shop open six days a week without a single complaint. He did it for his wife, the flowers and little shop she loved the only things he had left of her. It was a legacy he wished to keep alive, that’s what he told Emily when she answered his ad for an assistant shopkeeper and florist. 

To open a flower shop in another place than Edge City, preferably a small town… It was a childhood dream of hers, as cheesy and mushy as it may sound. She knew it may seem boring to others. However, it was an unrealistic dream with the low wages this depressing city had to offer towards women who weren’t desperate to sell their body or company. She was fortunate to have gotten the job, to have a love for flowers which made the old man nostalgic and convinced she was right for the job. The “A Dozen Daisies For You” flower shop made up for her impossible childhood dream and she was content with it. 

The cherry on top was the owner. Mr. Franklin was a gentle soul, easy to talk with, quite a charmer at his old age and funny too, a good sense of humor. She felt right at home in that small flower shop, no matter that she started working there since less than two weeks ago. It feels like it’s been much longer.

Emily looked down when something snapped under the sole of her shoe when she finally arrived at the shop, the piece of glass crunching against the stone. She brushed it off as nothing, probably a bottle some drunkard smashed for whatever reason, until every step she took towards the shop’s door crunched loudly. That was a lot of glass… Too much for a single booze bottle.

Her attention and thoughts catapulted elsewhere when she found the door of “Daisies” standing wide open, the glistening of glass ominously welcoming her inside. There was nothing left of the front door window but jagged pieces crowning the sill like shark teeth, the logo of the shop lying in shambles across the ground and floor, inside and outside the shop. 

A break-in?

She hesitated when a shiver of fear ran up her spine while staring into the shop, taking in the disturbing sight while her mind was screaming in panic and disarray. _Where is Mr. Franklin?_ The thought urged her on as it fed her worry for the old man, her concern stronger than sense.

Spilled soil kept the shards company upon the tiled floor of the shop she carefully treated on once she managed to cross the threshold with uncertain steps, a held breath and wide eyes, footprints visible in the dark sand. There were signs of a struggle, several flower pots lying broken on the floor while parts of the soil got swept and kicked around by the looks of it. The cash register lay upon its side next to the counter, its drawer open and empty. And on the counter…

Her hands began to shake as she slowly covered her mouth upon witnessing the stains of blood sprawled across the wood, dripping down onto the floor with a lazy and slow drip that echoed through her head. It was fresh. 

“Oh my God.” 

Her breath raced through her lungs with short and quick gasps while a single thought kept pressing forward and nearly deafened her with how loud it was: _where the fuck is Mr. Franklin?_

It was then the murmur of nearby voices pricked through her terror, her fearful eyes turning towards the open doorway leading to the back of the shop. 

The entry was dark, like a gaping maw leading into a cave of horrors. She knew what lay beyond that doorway, however, and there weren’t supposed to be any horrors. Just Mr. Franklin’s office, the toilet and tiny kitchen and the backroom where sacks of soil, pots, flowers, plants and tools were stored. Someone was there and that truth scared her to the core. Her stomach clenched together as she forced herself to listen while she slowly inched closer towards the doorway, hoping to hear the familiar warm tone of Mr. Franklin’s voice.

There were two different pitched voices from what she could hear when she peered into the narrow hallway and neither of the voices was the old man’s… A shuddering breath left her at the realization before she sharply sucked in some air as the sight of blood smeared on the door frame and wall caught her eye and startled her. It was still collecting in the grooves of the wood and creeping down like tiny ruby snails. 

_Oh God. Where is Mr. Franklin? Where is he?_

She pressed her hand firmer across her mouth to stifle any sounds of dismay and fright, whimpering behind her hand as she clenched her eyes shut to ignore the blood. It was even on the floor, a droplet trail leading towards the first door in the hallway; the office. The door was open and it was exactly where the voices came from. Was it really not Mr. Franklin? Damn it.

She eyed the wall telephone which hung further down the hallway when her worries for her boss finally silenced for some sense. The police. She should call the police. All she needed to do was turn that dial three times and whisper into the receiver for help. That was the only way she could help the poor old man, if he needed help. Who knows, maybe he was fine and all this was a false alarm.

The dark red color which lingered in the edge of her vision mocked her. 

Of course he needed help, stupid.

She pushed her shoulders back and ripped her hand away from her face to toughen up, though the first careful step she took into the hallway quickly retracted as her quivering body retreated back into the safety of the shop. 

This was crazy, she knew it. She should turn around and leave before anything bad will happen to her, find a police box (if it wasn’t vandalized by the local bastards) and find help that way. Sounds like a good plan. A very good plan in fact.

She frowned at the trowel she was holding when the weight of it wormed itself into her flickering focus and demanded her attention, her fingers clamped so tightly around the wooden handle that it turned her knuckles white and caused the tiny spade to shake in her grasp. Why was she--? Did she grab it while she was planning on fleeing? 

Her eyes darted from the gardening tool to the workbench she stood by before she looked at the door once more, a sinking feeling in her gut. Oh no. No, bad plan. This is a very bad plan.

_Come on, Emily, keep it together._

Her own encouragements fell on deaf ears when her feet went in the opposite direction than outside, going towards the source of the voices. She did her best to stay quiet after she entered the hallway and not step on any blood, keeping away from the walls to not stain her clothes with any of the trails which were smudged across the striped wallpaper. She didn’t want to but she could make out the shapes of fingers and the palm of a hand amidst the large red blotches she slowly passed.

There were two voices from what she could make out, both male. One was rather loud even though they weren’t shouting, the other more subdued and deeper. Definitely not Mr. Franklin, which wasn’t a reassuring thought. Who were they?

It took every ounce of courage she possessed to peek into the office once she reached the doorway, the trowel she subconsciously chose as her lifeline held weakly but desperately in both her hands before her. 

Her heart skipped a beat in relief when the first thing she saw was the old florist, the man sitting hunched in his chair with an arm draped over the backrest. His head hung forward and shrouded his face from her, his chin resting against his narrow chest as blood dribbled down from his mouth onto his lap and between his feet onto the floor. His white shirt and dark green apron were stained the same color as the counter, walls, and floor. The heaving of his shoulders and chest accompanied a hoarse wheeze which crept through the small space, a sign he was still alive.

_Thank God._

He wasn’t alone, however. Two figures too large for the small office stood before Mr. Franklin, their backs turned towards the door. Their girth and height were unnatural, one almost reaching the ceiling with how tall he was while the other was shorter but broad and blocky; it made Emily wonder how he got inside. Their inhuman sizes were baffling but it was the oddly shaped bat the tall lanky one rested across a shoulder which made her throat parch dry.

Did these guys hurt Mr. Franklin?

Their clothes… Perfect cuts, fine fabrics, clean. Black and red with dark pinstripes. Mobsters. Gang members. _Mafia_. What did they want from the florist? How close to death was he? What did they do to him?

Her heart froze and got her breath stuck in her throat when the two conversing men somewhat turned to look at each other, the light falling in from the small dirty window chasing away the shadows the fedoras they wore cast across their faces. Color drained from her own face at the sight of sharp grins that gleamed in the morning light and highlighted their pasty white skin and pronounced cheekbones. No, not skin. _Bone_. It’s fucking bone. These men had skulls devoid of skin or muscle tissue and with empty eye sockets and large fanged teeth.

Skeletons. _Monsters_.

The terrifying truth hit her hard as she gazed in awe but absolute fear upon the two mobsters, feeling her knees shaking while the rest of her limbs began to follow suit. She was turning into a nervous mess as all she could do was stare, her grip on the trowel waning. _Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t. Fucking. Scream_, she told herself in an attempt to not lose it as she backed away from the door with shaky steps, sweat rolling down her jaw. She was unable to look away, not believing what she saw. Too surreal. What was this nightmare? This was supposed to be her dream job.

The hitting of her heel against the wall behind her knocked her back to her senses and shook off the terror which coursed through her veins and rooted her down, her large eyes homing in on the telephone. 

She hurled herself forward and stumbled, her feet and weakening knees hardly able to hold up her weight as she grabbed for the horn and yanked it off the switch hook while clutching onto the phone to not end up on the floor. Her hands were shaking so badly, she could hardly aim and stick a finger into the correct holes of the dial, still holding dearly onto the trowel. She pressed the horn so hard against her ear that it hurt, impatiently awaiting the voice she needed to hear. 

_Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up!_

A click sounded after the excruciatingly long dial tone lasted for longer than she wanted before a feminine voice spoke and brought tears to her eyes, someone having answered her call. _Thank God, everything is going to be okay now. The police are going to show up and make everything right_. She parted her lips to whisper into the receiver, just as planned, but no words formed when the dreadful disconnect tone drilled into her ear the moment strong smells of cherries and cigar smoke infiltrated her nose and engulfed her. 

A thick white finger was pushing down the switch hook of the wall telephone, the connection to the police station lost with that single action. 

“No need for that, little lady.”

The deep voice was stained with mock and a grin, a grin she could make out from the corner of her wide open eyes. A lump formed in her throat and grew in size at the same pace the trembling in her whole body returned, her slightly parted lips quivering. Her instincts screamed at her to bolt but she didn’t dare, knowing exactly who was standing beside her, his heavy frame leaning against the wall while his finger, a skeletal finger, continued to rest on the phone hook to keep it disconnected from the world.

Where the fuck did he come from? She didn’t hear or see him, which was absurd because this guy was absolutely massive. No way he could sneak around quietly.

Her fingers twitched when her nerves and blood began to thaw and the urge to flee flared inside her chest, the horn she held dropping and hitting the wall before dangling and swaying by its cord. The soft collision was like a starting shot as she backed away from the skeleton at that very moment, bringing some distance between them and frantically searching for a way out. He blocked the exit, the only way out that she knew of, his broad body filling up the hallway.

Desperate to live and willing to fight for it, she wedged the trowel between her and the monster like a pathetically tiny shield with a soiled tip, the improvised weapon shaking in her sweating hands. A flicker of determination washed over her but it was drowned out by her fear.

The skeleton chuckled cruelly at the sight of the terrified human woman trying to defend herself with a tiny gardening tool, his single golden fang glistening in the light after he pushed the brim of his fedora up with the same finger he cut off her call with. A single red orb glowed in the depth of his left eye socket and lingered on her, his grin widening in amusal.

“Come on, lower that dirt toothpick. We’re friends of Eddie’s.”

_Friends of…? No, that’s bullshit_, she thought. _I know what I saw. You fucking tortured the poor man._

The flicker of hope which flashed across her pale face didn’t last long and he did notice it because his broad grin lost its sharp edge at the sight of her expression hardening with a glare. A scared glare, sure, but still a glare and it was growing resentful. 

The wall creaked when he took his weight off it and slowly extended a massive hand to her, his bone fingers curling to motion for the shaking trowel she held onto so tightly. Golden rings adored every finger of that thick skeletal hand, broad pieces of jewelry that looked expensive, but most of all, good for clobbering someone’s face in. Like Mr. Franklin’s.

That alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up further with disgust.

“Don’t,” she warned with a quiet voice when the monster took a step towards her after she showed no sign of cooperating. “Stay back.”

He didn’t listen, to her dismay, the little distance between them growing smaller. He was so large, two heads taller than her. One good smack with that large hand he kept holding out to her and she would be out cold on the floor, something she wasn’t looking forward to. 

To not be caught like a deer in the headlights by the sheer raw power which radiated off the large skeleton, she swiped at him with the trowel in a futile attempt to force him back, still clasped tightly in her hands. She warned him. He should have listened. No, she should have turned around and left the shop when she thought of it. Why would he be intimidated by someone as frail as her holding a baby-sized spade?

The edge of the trowel got caught behind the top black button of the skeleton’s vest during her desperate swipe and popped it right off, the small wooden thing bouncing off against the wall before it rolled across the floor and silently clattered to a stop between his feet. The menacing look upon the monster’s face twitched with surprise, his eye sockets round and large as he looked down at the button lying between his polished shoes, a hint of intrigue brewing around him. Though, it didn’t last.

When he saw the snapped threads and the dirt which stained his dark red vest where she snagged the button, those round sockets narrowed and a displeased grumble of a growl sounded from behind his sharp teeth. That menacing eyelight flickered and its red glow brightened when he focused his dark gaze on Emily, the woman frozen in fear at the sight of him and the red smoke which steadily began to pour from his left eye socket. No, not smoke. _Magic_.

She messed up. She should have fled when she had the chance.

“N-no, please--”

For someone as large as he was, he was unexpectedly fast. The hand he held out to her grabbed for her as he lumbered forward, the size of it engulfing her wrists. He overpowered and pushed her back with ease and slammed her wrists and shoulders into the wall at the end of the hallway, any hanging frames rattling from the impact. 

“Don’t go playin’ a hero, kid,” he grunted while he glared at her and kept her wrists pinned over her head against the wall, blocking her in with his body while the red plume of magic crept and swirled around them like wispy snakes. “It won’t end well for ya.”

His hand was rock hard and held an equal strength, his grip on her wrists tightening. It hurt and made her whimper with the sheer terror he instilled inside her, her trembling fingers unable to keep clutching the trowel she still had in her possession. It slipped from her quivering grasp after the pain he caused to surge up her arms made her already waning strength falter, the tool dropping and hitting her forehead with its not-so blunt edge. She audibly winced and pulled her head down in an instinctive reaction when a stinging pain began to swell above her eyebrow, the trowel clattering against the floor.

The rough clicking of a tongue sounded when the skeleton rolled his sockets and leaned in closer, the smokey trails of red growing thinner. “Now look what ya did.” He sounded genuinely disappointed and bothered as he pushed her beret back and lifted her chin to inspect the shallow cut, his motions rough and firm. 

The texture of his bones, the hardness of his fingers and the coolness of his rings against her skin made her shiver, every fiber of her being shaken with fear of death. She stared at the rounded curves of his skull face, the broad nose cavity and the sharp tips of his teeth which seemed stuck in an eternal grin while he intently leered at the damage the trowel did above her right eyebrow, the digits of his skeletal fingers pressing hard into her skin.

Why can’t she move? Was she too scared? Oh God, she is going to die. Murdered by a smartly dressed giant skeleton because she was too stupid and too concerned to think better.

His brow plate slightly rose when he finished examining the shallow cut and he lowered his gaze, their eyes locking while her chin and jaw remained clutched in his fingers. His grin was no longer as sharp as it was before, neither as wide after he caught sight of her oddly colored eyes, seemingly taken by it. One brown, the other a brilliant blue and sparkling like a sapphire thanks to the tears prickling behind her eyes.

The single intimidating red eyelight crept further down her face after her eyes no longer distracted him, his strong hold on her chin weakening. She didn’t like where his focus was going, feeling his gaze burning on her trembling lips before wandering further down towards her chest and lingered there. She pulled on her arms to escape his grip and eerie gaze, feeling vulnerable and exposed even though she was modestly dressed and hardly showed any skin with her woolen waist dress.

A heavy thump went through her chest and made her gasp for air, confusion bubbling towards the surface amidst the heartstopping fear she continued to endure. Something inside her chest became increasingly heavier and warmer underneath his hungry gaze the longer he stared. She was frightfully certain it was her soul as her heart continued to race. Something invisible was peeling back layer after layer to expose her soul and it made her writhe in discomfort and her cheeks flush a deep red, her haphazard breathing becoming heavy and deep. Whatever the strange sensation was, it scared her to her wit's end. It felt too personal, too intimate amidst the terror.

_What the fuck is he doing to her?_

Her lips pressed firmly together and her throat clenched up when he wound the loose strands of her hair around his fingers with slow circular motions, his skull inching closer while he remained enthralled by her chest. The smell of cherries and cigar smoke accompanied the hot air she felt brushing against her cheek, the skeleton’s breath hot and damp. 

_Why is it so warm? How is he even capable of breathing? Nothing was making sense. God, please, end this nightmare._

She shuffled her feet as she stood on her toes, still held against the wall by her wrists. His grip was like a vice, effortlessly holding her in place with a single hand and showing no intention of letting her go. He was getting far too close, hardly any space left between them. If he was going to kill her, then she better try something and go out with some dignity than let it happen quietly.

It took everything she had to not lock up and regain control over her limbs, to not get distracted by what he was doing inside her chest and not squirm under his gaze. She kicked her leg up by pressing her back hard against the wall for momentum, aiming for his groin to drive her knee into it and deliver hopefully enough pain for his hold to slip. She could barely reach with how much taller he was but then… it didn’t matter. 

He was faster than her, no matter that he seemed distracted by whatever magic he was using on her. He blindly caught her leg and halted it, his hard thick fingers digging into it as his grip tightened. A deep guttural laugh escaped through his clenched teeth, the sound threatening and shattering whatever resolve she had left. He was reveling in her dismay and making clear to her that he was in control by pushing his large skeletal hand up her leg and forcing her against the wall. He allowed his fingers to wander, caressing her pale skin with firm strokes before squeezing her thigh through the skirt. All the while he kept eye contact with his manic grin, the woman no longer able to stop herself from shaking.

Raped. Beaten. Killed. That’s what awaited her at the hands of this monster. He is going to do all those things to her and enjoy every second of it like the pervert he is, she was certain of it. And worst of all, there was nothing she could do to save herself.

A hot tear rolled down her cheek as her assailant hunched further over her and brushed the side of his skull against hers with an aroused breath, averting her face to not witness what he’ll do to her. She didn’t want to see his skeletal face and its sickening grin any longer, but even with her eyes closed, all she could see was a red glowing light in the darkness and the gleam of a large and sharp golden tooth.

The touch of his hand creeping further up her thigh couldn’t be ignored by closing her eyes, the fabrics of the long skirt rippling and getting pushed up to her waist. Something moist and hot pressed against her ear and slipped further down to her neck, leaving a wet trail behind. She wasn’t sure what it was. All she could do was whimper with the shuddering of her whole body, feeling the shape of his broad ribs through his shirt and vest as he closed the distance between them and pinned her with his whole body against the wall. 

“BROTHER.” 

The sudden gruff but loud spoken voice had a high pitch to it, pitched enough to cut through the tension like a Tommy gun’s bullets tearing through an unfortunate soul. Both monster and human froze upon hearing it, neither saying a word though it didn’t escape Emily that the massive skeleton’s eye sockets were wide open and his grin received a twinge of annoyance.

“WHAT DID YOU FIND?”

The other skeleton from the office slowly came into view as he approached. He looked more terrifying than the monster who was on the border of having his way with her, his fine fedora hat casting a deep shadow across his sharp features and elongated jaw, his skull narrow just like his body and limbs. Three long cracks ran across his left eye socket like scars, his whole appearance less soft than the one he presumably called brother.

Resting across his shoulder was the club he held earlier in the office, the long strangely shaped weapon tapping against the shiny black fabric of his dress coat which fit him well. In this light, she could see what his choice of weapon was and it gave her a new sense of panic; a bone.

The painful pressure on her wrists was lifted when the broad skeleton released her and turned half around to face his fellow monster with a dark scowl, her wobbly knees not able to carry her weight after her support was suddenly gone. She slumped to the floor with a soft yelp before she pressed herself into the corner with a wild scrambling and clasped a hand across her neck and ear, fearfully gazing up to the two skeletons while air raced in and out of her chest with uncontrolled gasps and pants. 

All she got from the tall monster was a questioning look while his shorter but far broader companion had lost his scowl after he eyed her up.

“Emily…?”

It was as if an angelic chorus erupted from the heavens when she heard her name spoken in the warm familiar voice of the man who loved flowers, the old florist shuffling into the hallway and clutching his side. He sounded out of breath as he leaned against the doorpost, one of his eyes somewhat swollen and some teeth missing while blood stained his busted nose, lips and left side of his face, his dark grey hair sticky with blood. He looked concerned after he stretched his neck to see the huddle of shaking nerves in the far end of the hallway, his tired and aching expression lighting up a little upon seeing the terrified woman.

It took a moment for her mind to accept that Mr. Franklin was truly there, still dazed by what she went through before she grabbed for the trowel she lost and scrambled to her feet without a single thought or hesitation. She almost tripped over her own feet as she fled from the monsters, neither of them stopping her. 

She nearly toppled the old man over after she grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself to her feet, her cheeks wet from tears. “Oh God, Mr. Franklin, are you alright?” she asked as she looked him over before he broke into a coughing fit and hunched over. She held him up while concern for the man’s well being flared, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. “What have these two bastards done to you?”

The amused-sounding chuckle behind her made her spin around and point her reclaimed trowel at the skeletons, the glare she shot at them spiteful and dripping with utter disdain. It was returned with a look of disinterest from the tall one while the broad one kept grinning with a taunting expression plastered across his face. The look he gave her sent cold shivers down her spine and made the lingering sensation in her chest throb, her disgust not waning. 

He wasn’t regretting shit, was he?

A soft patting on her shoulder caught her off guard and made her visibly flinch, another pearl of sweat rolling down her face. “They’re friends, Emily,” Mr. Franklin said behind her as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his coughing settling down. “I called them over.”

She hesitantly lowered her so-called weapon upon hearing the old florist’s words, disbelief rearing its ugly head. These monsters are his friends? Truly? No, he must be lying to save himself. A kind old man like him doesn’t associate himself with murderers and, and… and… 

A hot flush unintentionally spread across her face when the reminder of the large skeleton’s hand and breath caused phantom touches to tickle her skin and give her goosebumps, the lingering shudders of disgust intensifying. 

“She workin’ for ya, Ed?”

Mr. Franklin nodded in answer and readjusted the arm he clamped around his waist, presumably having broken a rib or two from whatever got him in this state. “Y-yes, since before last week. I needed the extra help around the shop,” he calmly explained. “Especially with the, umm… extra tasks your leading brother laid on my old shoulders.” 

“About that…”

The broad skeleton exchanged a glance with his much taller companion before shrugging and sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his dress pants, his skull tilting towards the door leading towards the backroom with a sideways nod. The other skeleton’s so-called eyes shot from his fellow monster towards the door, then the wound-up woman and elderly gentleman behind him before leering back down at his brother with a narrowing of his sockets. The tense silence remained until he grumbled from the back of his jagged maw and begrudgingly straightened his black tie, understanding what was asked of him.

He obviously didn’t like it.

“FOLLOW ME, TINY HUMAN WOMAN,” he said after turning to her. “I HAVE A TASK FOR YOU.”

“What?” Befuddlement overpowered her as she stared confused at the skeleton before shaking her head. “No… No, Mr. Franklin needs to see a doctor; he’s hurt.” And the police but she won’t say such out loud in the presence of these monsters, still not fully convinced they are his friends, not after what that big one did to her. “I won’t leave him.”

“THE ELDERLY HUMAN IS FINE,” he insisted as he marched past her without waiting or listening to her, steering himself into the front of the shop.

She warily eyed the club he carried with him in the same fashion as before, not trusting any of this. It wasn’t until she felt Mr. Franklin giving her shoulder another squeeze that her tense muscles somewhat relaxed and her heart no longer beat furious inside her ribcage.

“He’s right, I’ll be fine. I’ve gone through far worse before.”

The crooked smile he gave her didn’t reassure her. “But--”

“HURRY UP, HUMAN. YOU ARE KEEPING THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAITING.” An edge of irritation and impatience stained the grumbly pitched voice coming from the shop area.

Emily hesitated but she knew she had to do what was asked of her. One does not cross the mafia, especially a monster mafia. 

“Go on,” the florist gently urged as he took the trowel from her. “He won’t hurt you.”

If only she could believe him… She reluctantly glanced in the direction of the remaining skeleton after she lowered her shoulders in defeat, looking at him from the corner of her eyes and below furrowed brows. She doesn’t want to but she can’t help herself; her whole being was drawn to him and it disgusted her. He was intently watching her, his grin growing ever so slightly wider when he caught her glancing his way. 

God, how he frightens her. If only she had the guts to call him out and give him the punch he deserves.

She felt his eye burning on her back and behind after she spun around and hurried down the hall, not wanting to spend another second in the cramped space with that monster. She balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her chest once she left the hallway and entered the store, the strong beating of her heart making it hard to breathe. Her soul was still quivering from whatever he did to her and it brought forth conflicted feelings she couldn’t make any sense of.

She froze on the spot just across the threshold when she saw the one who called himself the Great Papyrus dismiss his club with but a wave of a black gloved hand, the bone dissolving into a red flame which swelled before it faded into thin air like smoke.

He noticed she was there after he brushes his glove off and grabbed for the broom resting against the nearby wall before holding it to her with a shoving motion. “CLEAN UP THIS MESS WHILE MY BROTHER AND I SPEAK WITH YOUR BOSS,” he ordered in a polite but demanding manner. “DO NOT INTERRUPT US.”

_Whatever you say, oh “Great” Papyrus_, she mockingly thought as she took the broom from him but all she could stammer was a quiet “yes sir” while she kept her head low, not daring to cross him. She waited for the sounds of his footsteps to fade away down the hall after he strode past her without another word said before she clutched the handle of the broom with both her hands and leaned on it, her forehead pressing against her knuckles.

What in the shit just happened? Was this real?

She squinted her right eye when she felt the heat of pain after rubbing her forehead against her knuckles, the shallow cut she accidentally gave herself still there and telling her that, yes, this truly was real. She truly woke up this morning, left the comfort of her home and ventured straight into the arms of some monster mobster scheme and a bloody mess.

_Now look what ya did._

His words spooked through her head as she carefully touched her eyebrow to check if it was bleeding, her teeth baring in anger. _No, asshole_, she thought to herself and her jaws clamped tightly together. _Look at what **you** did._

A long sigh slipped free from between her lips after she inhaled deeply through her nose and pulled her beret off, already inspecting the shop through her eyelashes. Her eyes skipped over the blood still staining the counter and floor, soon focusing on the soil and shards. Why was she even here, she wondered after she lay her beret on the workbench and slowly started to sweep, the glass tinkling as she pushed them across the tiled floor with the broom’s hard bristles.

She could easily run. The front door of the shop was still wide open. There was nobody here to stop her.

_Don’t be an idiot, Emily_. They’ve seen her face, they know her name and Mr. Franklin has her address in his files. If she were to run, who knows what these monsters might to do her… or the old man. She hated to admit it but she was stuck in this mess, whatever kind of mess that was. For instance, not everything was making sense yet… Like Mr. Franklin’s injuries and the break-in. If those guys didn’t assault him, then who did? In what kind of trouble was the old man?

The sound of the broom’s bristles scraping across the tiles was the only response she would get to her silent questions, unaware of what was being discussed in the backroom of “A Dozen Daisies For You”.

  


Mr. Franklin and the skeleton who stayed behind with him looked up from their conversation when Papyrus joined them amidst the stacks of packed soil and fertilizer, the backroom smelling like damp earth and a mixture of flowers and wood. The tall monster didn’t seem to be in the best mood after he discreetly dealt with the “tiny human woman” to keep her out of their business, a scowl resting across his sharp features.

“Did ya see who it was, Eddie?” Papyrus’ brother asked while eyeing an unlit cigar he held up between his fingers, contemplating if he should light it or save it for later. 

Mr. Franklin nodded while leaning against the sacks of soil, his arm still resting around his waist while he thoughtfully stroked his aching side. “Yeah, but I didn’t recognize him. Young lad, wore a cap and vest of the same brown color, dark hair tied back into a tail,” he recalled. “I couldn’t see any obvious gang marks on him, so he’s probably new or on trial. Not that it matters… He still took all of my money. At least he got to bite on a bullet; that should make him recognizable.”

The skeleton tucked the cigar away in his coat’s chest pocket after he finally decided, having grown tired of thinking too hard. He’d rather hold and suck on something else between his teeth. The glow in his left socket dimmed with the forward tilting of his skull, having far different thoughts than his current company. 

“We’ll keep an eye out for the guy,” he managed to say after indulging himself with the fresh memories of the woman he had terrorized mere moments ago. “No need to worry about yer protection fee payment for next week either. We’ll let it slide if none of the goods got stolen.”

“The lad was far too interested in the cash register and the safe in my office. He fled the moment I shot him in the shoulder so he didn’t have the chance to raid the backroom. The goods should be accounted for.” Mr. Franklin looked towards the crates partially hidden under a tarp, adding to reassure the two skeletons,” it’s all ready for tomorrow’s transport so everything is still on schedule.”

“Wings will be delighted to hear that.” He stuck his hands back into his pockets as he smiled at the bloodied man, saying to him,” why don’t ya go and freshen yerself up. We’ll talk with Wings about what happened here. Just let us deal with it, alright? If any more trouble comes up, call.”

Mr. Franklin showed an appreciative but tired smile. “Sure thing, boss. I am too old for this bullshit anyway.”

  


Emily lowered the OPEN sign she picked up from the floor and carefully brushed it off when she heard a door opening with a whiny creak and a set of footsteps came down the hallway, guessing whatever discussions the men had was over. She clutched the sign against her chest as she watched Papyrus be the first to step into the shop, the path towards the front door free from any spilled soil and broken glass. 

“CARRY ON, HUMAN,” he said with his odd boisterous voice as he made a beeline for the broken door, not even glancing her way. She was fine with it.

What she wasn’t fine with was the other skeleton trailing after Papyrus, her stomach clenching together in repulsion at the very sight of him. He was in the middle of plopping his fedora back on when he looked her way, the wink that followed as he kept a hand on top of his hat making her cheeks burn and her spine stiffen up. 

“See ya around, flower girl.” He sounded threatening and mocking, at least to her ears. It only deepened the color present across her cheeks while she pressed the sign harder against her chest to shield her soul from him, his grin piercing her like a bullet.

_The fucking nerve of that guy._

She didn’t move until both skeletons had left the shop, watching them through the window from where she stood. They lingered outside to be certain nothing suspicious was hanging about before they got in a dark red Bentley parked across the street, something she should have noticed earlier because that type of expensive looking car stood out in the drab surroundings of this neighborhood. Then again, she was fairly distracted by what she found after she arrived at the shop.

The shuffling footsteps behind her didn’t make her turn her head as she continued to watch the car and the monsters inside it, asking as it drove away and disappeared from view,” who are they?”

“They are my landlords,” came the sincere answer.

Mobster landlords… That explained a few things. He must be paying a protection fee if a gang was in charge of this neighborhood. So much good that did; he still got attacked by who knows who. The fact no police were getting involved made the truth all the more clear. Even if her call had gotten through, nobody from law enforcement would have come to her aid. Not even her dad…

She shook off the thoughts about her father, not wanting to think about him.

Mr. Franklin noticed her brooding as she stood silent with the OPEN sign still cradled against her chest, the look in her oddly colored eyes distant as if she looked right through the buildings across the street. “I am sorry, Emily. I should have told you about them before I hired you.”

“They are mo--mobsters…” She was going to say monsters but she swallowed it down to not state the obvious and not sound racist before the old man. She was definitely not racist and had an open mind towards humans of any color or culture. This included monsters too unless they were like these skeleton brothers. Intimidating. Frightening. Handsy. Powerful. Aggressive. Intrusive.

“Nasty folk, yes, but the Gaster brothers reward loyalty. Do as they say, pay when they ask and they take good care of you. ”

“The big one…” she said with a narrowing of her eyes while she continued to look at where she last saw them in their car. “I don’t trust him.”

He appreciated her honesty. She did seem terrified out of her mind when he saw her on the floor next to the skeleton. He guessed it was because she might have never seen a monster up close before but it appeared there was more to it. “You mean Sans? I don’t know what he has done to you but I’ll tell you this. He’s tough to get along with at first and he can be vicious, rude and trigger happy, but as long as you stay on his good side, you’re in the clear.”

Sure didn’t seem it when he pinned her against the wall. 

The florist sighed through his nose as he saw the look on her face grow darker in disagreement, feeling a sense of blame for what happened. He walked up next to her and followed her gaze outside before she finally looked at him with some reluctance. He gave her an apologetic smile as he patted her shoulder, stifling a cough. 

“I dragged you into some fine mess, haven’t I?” he asked, his gaze lowering to the curling lettering of the OPEN sign she held. “I understand if you want to quit and hightail out of here. Probably for the best, too. This kind of life isn’t for everyone… especially not for someone like you.”

Her eyes wandered across his wrinkled face and the smudges of blood he hadn’t wiped off yet before she allowed herself to take in the shop, thinking about what he said. It was tempting but… Her eyes rested on the glint of silver she noticed behind him, seeing the pistol tucked away in the back of his pants. It appears Mr. Franklin is not as innocent as he seems. It didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would.

“Edge City is no longer the city it once was… Gangs are claiming more territory by the day, crime is hiding behind every corner… it’s awful everywhere. Everyone’s got a finger in whatever the greedy bastards are up to, even small flower shops like this one.” She sounded accusingly but she didn’t look it, her voice soft. “Look, I like working here, Mr. Franklin. I love this shop,” she admitted. “You took me in and gave me a job I wanted ever since I was a little girl. It is going to take more than two skeletons to scare me away from your flowers.”

He wasn’t talking about his peculiar landlords but he won’t burst her moment of confidence, not after she finally regained some color to her cheeks and wasn’t shaking like a leaf. “My wife would have liked you if she were still alive,” he weakly laughed. “Very well, you can work here for as long as you want and need. Just… Promise me you won’t linger too long in the backroom. Don’t go peekin’ under any tarps and don’t get in the way of the Gaster brothers’ business. It’s for your own good, trust me. The less you know, the better.”

“Yes, sir. I promise.” She really wanted nothing to do with these Gaster brothers. She’ll leave whatever shady business he was doing with those monsters to him while she’ll tend to the shop and create bouquets like the world wasn’t on fire. Ignorance might just be the right thing in this situation.

As long as that fucking skeleton doesn't come near her again, things will hopefully be fine.

  


Luckily, she didn’t need to worry about that “fucking skeleton” for the time being. He and his brother were long gone after they drove off, having other places to be and better things to do than torture a poor human woman. The skeleton Mr. Franklin called by the name Sans was in the driver’s seat while his tall lanky brother sat beside him, neither speaking. Even the radio was off.

The tapping of Papyrus’ foot was unnerving, the skeleton restless and having trouble focusing for reasons Sans hadn’t figured out yet. Not that he was trying very hard to find out, the big skeleton lost in deep thought and gnawing little desires. Papyrus’ eyes kept wandering, at times drawn by a sign or a shop outside before gliding over the dark interior of the car. It didn’t take long to notice something was off about his brother when he looked him over.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR BUTTONS, BROTHER? ONE IS MISSING.”

Sans took his eyes off the road to look down at his vest, his brother reminding him of the unfortunate fate one of his buttons went through after he spooked the female human at the flower shop. “Must have snapped off,” he answered nonchalantly, not wanting to go into detail about what exactly happened. It would make for a very awkward drive if he did.

Papyrus shook his skull with a displeased grumble as he crossed his arms. “I TOLD YOU YOUR BONES ARE GAINING WEIGHT WITH ALL THAT LAZYING AROUND AND SMOKING YOU ARE DOING.

He chuckled wryly at Papyrus’ lecturing. He wasn’t exactly wrong. 

“Speakin’ of doin’...” He grinned at the thoughts and ideas his own little pun brought forth inside his cranium though he kept them to himself. “What are we gonna do about Eddie?”

The tall skeleton cupped his pointy chin in his gloved hand as he thought about it. “WE SHALL INFORM WINGS ABOUT WHAT OCCURRED AT THE SHOP. I AM CERTAIN HE WILL HAVE A LEAD AS TO WHO THE CULPRIT MIGHT BE WORKING FOR.”

If anyone might know, it was Wingdings, even Sans had to agree with that. It was why the eldest brother was in charge, the self-proclaimed boss and don of what they had managed to pull together these past few years. He was the brains behind the whole operation they were running.

Still, there was another matter which needed to be discussed.

“And the new flower girl?” 

Papyrus didn’t say anything and instead looked out of the window, the silence growing heavy between the brothers.

What was he thinking about, Sans wondered, fairly certain their lines of thoughts weren’t matching. At least, he hoped they weren’t. His soul still felt hot from what he did to that woman, her warmth and body all he had on his mind. “She’s in on this now,” he reminded him to not stray from the current subject. “Just like Eddie.”

The silence lingered for a while longer before Papyrus broke it with a huff, looking a little troubled by what he said next. “WINGS WILL DECIDE WHAT SHALL BE DONE ABOUT HER.”

Of course. Sans should have expected that answer. Why did he have a feeling that Wingdings was going to ruin his fun?

  


* * *

  


It was already dark when Emily got off the bus and walked home, the poor woman exhausted after an eventful and quite shitty day. Her whole body ached and she hadn’t felt safe for an instance ever since she left the shop and headed home. She kept looking over her shoulder: every sound, movement and smell making her jump in the fear that she was being followed or about to get jumped by someone. The growing darkness scared her, afraid to find his red glowing eye in a dark corner or behind her.

He messed her up good, the damn bastard. The distinct smell of cherries and cigar smoke was still stuck in her nose and she hated it. 

She doesn’t even like cherries. 

She hurried up the steps of her porch after the short walk from the bus stop. The house was detached, with a small fenced yard, the surname “Baxter” painted on the side of the mailbox. The paint was peeling off the walls and the picket fence was in need of repair, but although it wasn’t much to look at, this was a place she once called home and felt safe. She hadn't felt that way for a long time, and especially not tonight. Still, she will feel a little safer once the door is locked behind her, the lights are on and she won’t find any monsters waiting for her.

Unfortunately for her, her paranoia was right. 

  


Further down the street, not far from the house she entered, a dark red Bentley stood parked, its engine still warm. A thin veil of reddish smoke hung inside the car, the darkness of the evening intensifying the glow of the pinprick visible on the left side of the driver's pale face.

So that’s where she lives, huh? Not a bad neighborhood, though he knew exactly who was boss here and it wasn’t the Gaster brothers. Pity that. 

Sans chewed on the butt of his cigar, mulling things over while he watched the lights turn on inside the house after the little flower lady went inside. First downstairs and then upstairs but a few moments later, a sign she was home alone. Interesting…

After he and Papyrus returned home to discuss the “Daisies” matter with their older brother, Wingdings wasn’t too happy about the news. In fact, he was livid. He was rightfully suspicious about the timing of it all.

A break-in the day before an important shipment? That was no coincidence. Why rob a flower shop while there were better shops right down the street that actually sold valuable items, like booze and meat?

And then there was Edward Franklin hiring a new shop assistant shortly after they stashed weapons and opium powder at his shop because he was one of the more inconspicuous places in that neighborhood to store such until transport dates were set. Wingdings was obviously not happy about that and distrusted Eddie’s new assistant the second he learned about her.

So here Sans was, keeping an eye on things just like Wingdings told him to. As long as he kept out of sight, learned something useful about the human woman and was home by the set curfew, he was doing his job. He didn’t mind tailing after her and wisely held back on his enthusiasm when Wingdings appointed the task to him rather than Papyrus, not wanting to waste an opportunity to see more of her. His patience was growing thin, however.

Sans has been around human women before. Most were afraid of him, kept their distance, and those who didn’t were still afraid but were paid or forced to get close to him. Smooth things over, keep him happy… the usual. Humans were so quick to offer up their own as long as it meant they’d get something in return. It wasn’t his first time touching or holding a woman either. Killed them too whenever a job got dirty.

This one though. This one was frail and yet fiery, her attempts to fight back laughable but riveting. Her struggling was a sight to behold, the little noises she made music to his ears and the fear in her eyes made his soul throb and loins stir. And those eyes… Dark and light. Her blue eye was dazzling and bright, it would almost make him jealous for something he didn't have. What other emotions could she convey through those big mismatched eyes? Lust, perhaps?

He leaned back in the car seat, smoke escaping from between his sharp teeth as he watched the house through half open sockets. He shouldn’t be teasing himself with arousing thoughts about the flower girl but there was nothing else to catch his attention. All he could think of was her soft flesh and warm skin. The goosebumps he caused to rise all over her body was a texture he loved to feel and look at. And the color and strength of her soul, damn. Deep blue fighting in the constrictive grasp of his prying magic, the same color as her left eye which showed him so much of how she felt. Her quivering against his bones made his hollow insides vibrate and ectoplasm writhe with unholy desires. 

_Shit._

He shifted in the leather seat and spread his legs a little further while his grip around the steering wheel tightened, drumming the curved wood with his fingertips. His cheekbones steadily turned a faint dusty red while he chewed thoughtfully on his cigar, the dark red and grey ashes smoldering. Not the best time to get hot over a human he just met. 

Though… It would be so easy to go inside her home and reenact their moment in the florist’s hallway. Press her up against a wall, the couch, her bed, the floor, the kitchen counter. Anywhere. Claim her as his own for the night while she helplessly struggles, feel her hot skin. Taste it. She owed him that much for ruining his favorite vest. How he would love to fuck her. She felt good against him. It made his ectoplasm stir and shape in his pants, tightening the crotch of it. His soul longed to see the blue of hers once more, maybe while he tears her clothes off and ravishes her to his heart’s content. Would she give in eventually, plead for more of him? Not knowing was what made this so incredibly hot.

A disapproving grunt left him when headlights chased the darkness away and blinded him, the hand he was rubbing across the forming bulge in his pants held up to block the light which relentlessly pulled him out of his sex-crazed haze. A car had pulled up in front of the flower girl’s house. The two bright lights dimmed as the engine shut off and a man stepped out, slamming the door shut before going up the front patio of the house. He soon disappeared inside, having used keys to enter rather than forcing his way in.

Who the fuck is this? Her husband? Fiance perhaps?

That thought bothered him. A lot. Was she wearing a ring on any of her fingers? Not that he recalled, neither a necklace. Her boyfriend then? His jaws clenched at the mere thought the little lady already belonged to someone, that someone else than him was touching her beautiful pale skin and smelling her silver blonde hair. That someone else was fucking her. His stare became more intense as he watched the lit and dark windows of the house, seeking for a sign to turn his denial into reality while anger began to replace his lust.

_Fuck. _

He took a deep drag from the cigar before exhaling the reddish-grey smoke scented of cherries, engulfing his glare and dark features. This isn’t any of his business. He shouldn’t care. Wings told him to tail the woman after learning about her ties with Eddie and he did. There was nothing suspicious about her other than the fact she was in a fucking relationship. Case closed. 

The engine rumbled after he turned the keys, mimicking the snarl present across his clenched jaws. He could really use a drink right now. Throw himself a pity party at Grillby’s after he returns to Snowdin where Wingdings is waiting for him. Well, he’ll let him wait a little longer for this useless report, just to spite him.

And the day started so interestingly. Fucking shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big Thank You to my friend @CoolCoolSkies, for proofreading and teaching me a few things! I hope to put it to use in the next chapter.


	2. Just Another Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for the support and feedback I've received so far. I honestly didn't expect this when I decided to share this story on AO3. So, thank you all so much! You've been wonderful and very welcoming!
> 
> A few new tags were added for this chapter.

Many would agree that the previous day and night were horrible in Edge City. Mugging, assault, and murder were all in the cards, bringing along the reminder about how awful this city had become. For some people, humans and monsters alike, the coming of dawn gave them a soft reset to forget or ignore whatever may have happened to them the day before. Some, however, won’t hit that reset button.

Edward Franklin wasn’t one to bury his little problems with ignorant bliss or enforced forgetfulness. He had a tendency to face things head-on and deal with it sooner than later, get the mess out of the way. And, even if he were to try to ignore yesterday’s events, his current injuries refused to let him pretend that the robbery in his shop didn’t happen.

The old man had a fine example of a black eye and had made no effort to cover it up, the swelling having lessened throughout the night after he wasted a good steak on it. His scabbed and bruised lips embraced the end of a sloppily rolled cigarette which filled his lungs with the smoke of cheap tobacco. The bandage wrapped around his head held a cotton patch against a nasty gash which was in no hurry to heal up. It still throbbed painfully.

His coughing was strained after the cigarette smoke tickled his throat the wrong way, his sides and chest aching from the beating he’d received. At least he was better off than the guy who thought it was a good idea to barge into his shop and pull a gun on him. Foolish lad… A gunshot to the shoulder isn’t something you walk off so easily. At least it will make him think twice before coming back here.

Edward shook his head as he actually felt sorry for the guy who had thrashed him for money, not seeming too fazed by the event._ Just another day in this miserable city_, he thought, sitting on a pallet of stacked soil bags to look at the truck parked behind his shop. 

The truck was small, an old model with the logo of his flower shop painted on the sides. The back of it was open but empty, at least for now. The shipment the Gaster brothers were all jumpy about these past two weeks was finally getting prepped for transport and, thankfully, Edward didn’t need to lift a finger during it.

Two men he didn’t even know by name were doing the heavy lifting for him, not caring to learn their identities. They were just cronies the Gaster brothers sent over, muscle and disposable men who had their own reasons to be a part of a mob. They were discussing how to carry the crates through the dock doors and into the truck, needing to be careful with the goods if they wanted to keep their kneecaps.

The florist felt some gratification from simply watching them do all the work; it paid off to be old. 

He took another slow drag from his cigarette before choking on the smoke when he noticed a large dark shadow suddenly standing beside him, towering over him. The startle made him almost suck in the thin death stick. He hoarsely hacked and wheezed while hitting his chest with a fist to get the smoke out of the wrong places, leaning far forward before he said begrudgingly and with a hint of warning,” you need to stop doing that…”

Edward sighed upon hearing a raw chuckle before he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his liver-spotted hand, not looking all too happy at the grinning monster beside him. The large skeleton had a bad habit of appearing out of thin air and not announcing his presence… You’d think Edward would be used to it by now, but one does not so easily get used to magic. _Real_ magic, that is.

Sans stood with his hands in his pockets as he continued to grin at the elderly human, the awning of the small dock casting a shadow over his skull and broad shoulders. “Ya seem surprised to see me, Ed. Not good lookin’ enough for ya?”

“You don’t have enough meat on them bones of yours, boy,” the old man retaliated playfully while rubbing his own chest in a soothing manner. “No, I expected Papyrus today. You don’t usually show up for this sort of thing.”

Another chuckle. “Guilty as charged.” 

It was no secret to Edward that Sans was rather lazy unless he was somehow forced, or there was a carrot on a stick to urge the skeleton on. He won’t tease him too much about it, let alone mention it; he was wise enough to not get on the skeleton’s bad side, his temper too hot to deal with. Though… What was the carrot this time around? No, you know what? He didn’t want to know. 

“Wings figured we might be needed during transport after what happened. Keep an eye on things. Paps is checkin’ the perimeters to see if any trouble is brewin’,” Sans informed him. “Don’t think ye’re up for another round of “beat the geezer” yet.” 

Edward smirked at the lame jest. “Did your older brother figure out who the lad has ties with?”

Sans thought back to the day before, picturing the vexed twitching of Wingdings’ brow plates when he received the news about the break-in and the new employee of “Daisies”. It was usually not that funny to witness his brother get angry, but Sans was in a far too good mood to feel threatened by Wings’ silent frustration. A shame the good mood didn’t last. 

His hands clenched into fists inside his pockets when the fresh memories from last night brought a sour taste in his mouth. He still felt the buzz of alcohol and mustard spices inside his cranium, along with the sexual frustrations he was left with for the night. 

“He has a few ideas but nothin’ solid,” he answered to not have his thoughts get sidetracked but it was already too late. His dark gaze prowled around the sealed off back alley and the shop’s backroom in search of something warm and soft, something blue and enticing, something which made his ectoplasm and soul shudder in depraved carnal hunger. “Surprised the little dame isn’t here.”

Edward rose a brow at Sans, simply looking at him in silent wonder before asking,” are you talking about Emily?” He hummed thoughtfully as he checked the watch hanging loosely around his wrist. “She won’t be coming into work until a little later. There’s no need for her to be around for this. Your business is none of her business.”

So she didn’t quit on the spot and will come back to the shop today? That actually surprised the skeleton. He figured she was well mannered enough to stay and finish up for the day, maybe help clean up some of the bloody mess, but also expected she would bolt and never ever come back at the first given chance. It seems he underestimated her.

But why would she continue working here? Did she enjoy being pinned to a wall and touched by him, or did his soul magic have a stronger impact on her soul than he anticipated? Strong enough to have her long for more, maybe? 

“Surprised she didn’t quit,” Sans said to mimic his thoughts, fishing for more information on the flower girl while turning his attention to the two cronies as they finally tried to lift a crate. Thinking about the day before was too distracting.

“I’m glad she didn’t. She is very useful around the shop and a good woman too. Whatever you did or said to her, it didn’t scare her off.”

_A good thing too_, Sans thought to himself after picking up on the lecturing tone in Edward’s voice. He would hate to miss out on terrorizing her some more, even if she is already under some other fucking guy’s spell. Speaking of which…

“She got a boyfriend or somethin’?” he asked casually, hiding his frustration well. “Someone to look after her if things go south here?”

Edward shrugged. “Not that I know of. She told me she lives alone with her dad.”

_Wait, dad…? As in her old man? That guy was her fuckin’ dad?_

Sans blinked when it started to sink in, looking stumped. 

He got pissed off and worked up over nothing? Fuck, he hated it but that’s hilarious. That bitch had him fooled. He burst out laughing, his sharp teeth parting wide to let the laughter rumble from his nonexistent belly, the look on his round skull elated but holding a hint of something dark and manic. 

The sudden laughter flowed into content chuckles after he caught Edward shoot him a confused glance. Even the two cronies looked startled and cautious. 

“A little dame her age still livin’ with her parents?” he asked to play it smooth and not reveal his true thoughts, the broad grin he carried staying plastered on his face. “That doesn’t sound right.” 

“Well, times are tough for us humans, Sans, especially in this city,” Edward said and watched the skeleton light one of his iconic cigars with what could best be described as magic, the red flame he lazily summoned from his fingertip sizzling the front of the fat cigar. Reddish smoke slipped through the cracks of those large sharp teeth after a few good puffs and drags, the smell of cigar-stained cherries beginning to spread. 

No, Edward admitted to himself as he watched the smoke curl around the monster, he really can’t get used to the sight of real magic.

“Maybe she’s saving up for her own place, who knows,” he continued. “She was determined to continue working here, even after what happened. I reckon she needs the money… But why the interest in Emily? She’s done no wrong.”

She didn’t, didn’t she? That’s what made this little hunt puzzling but interesting. “Just makin’ sure she’s on our side, Ed. Don’t think anythin’ of it,” Sans tutted, unable to wipe that stupid grin off his face. This morning just got a whole lot better.

  


* * *

  


_Oh God, no. Go away._

Emily’s eyes refused to open after a continuous shrill rattling stirred her from an uneasy sleep. She didn’t want to move, at all, but the noise was so loud, she knew someone was going to complain about it… and that was something she didn’t want to happen. Not today, not after what happened.

Her hand landed on top of the vibrating clock after a few failed attempts, the silence of her house creeping back into her room after the ringing of her alarm was quelled. She could hear the sounds of cars and buses from outside, and someone shouting in the distance. No gunfire, no blood-curdling screams, no sounds of terror. Good. 

She peeked out from under the blanket once the clock demon from hell was “slain”, her two different colored eyes scanning the room to make certain nothing or nobody was there to ruin her day. She half expected to find a certain someone hanging over her when she pulled the blanket back ever so slightly, but to her greatest relief, nobody was there.

The paranoia from last night had joined her in bed like an unwanted partner, and so did the memories of her first close encounter with a monster from the Underground. 

She feared the dark thanks to him, didn’t even dare to close her eyes. Even with the desk lamp on throughout the night, the light wasn’t enough to make her feel safe in her own room. Every shadow was ominous and every sound threatening. 

He haunted her dreams and turned them into nightmares. The darkness of sleep was tainted by red, ivory, and gold. By sharp teeth, slithering smoke, and red menacing lights within black eye sockets. His grin, his grabbing, his forcefulness and hunger, and that damn cherry smell; she experienced them over and over whenever her eyelids became too heavy and sleep prodded her. Too often she startled awake with her chest aching, her cheeks burning, and her heart beating far too fast, at times tangled up in her blanket with the constant tossing and turning to escape the giant skeleton. 

No wonder she felt awful when she sat up and eyed the alarm clock with disdain. Why was it time to wake up and go to work?

She begrudgingly hoisted herself out of bed to get ready, moving quietly around on the balls of her feet to not make too much noise. 

Take a quick shower, brush her teeth, tie up her long hair into the usual messy bun and get dressed. Her daily morning routine, though it was different this time as it was filled with dread. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake off the paranoia which had followed her home.

Once she stood in front of her mirror and faced her weary-looking self, she considered putting a bandaid over the shallow cut present above her right eyebrow to hide it. She decided against it in the end, not wanting to draw any unnecessary or unwanted attention to her minor injury; it was fine as is. 

What she did worry about was the slight bruising around her wrists. She didn’t notice it until she was in the shower and the warm water loosened her tense muscles. The finding soured her feeble attempt to not be down so early in the day, the faint dark spots somewhat sore to the touch. 

_Damn that bastard and his grubby fat fingerbones…_

She was certain her dad will have a fit if he sees the cut on her forehead, but bruises? She can’t so easily make up a lie for those… He will lose it if he finds out.

The thought made her visibly cringe in a different kind of fear than she experienced during the previous day and night. Truth be told, it felt wrong to keep such a terrifying experience from a parent but it was for the best in her case.

She tugged on the sleeves of her dress to cover her wrists while she thought about her father, quietly treading down the hallway and towards the landing to head downstairs for some breakfast. She was extra careful and slow when she passed his bedroom door, not wanting to wake him if her alarm hadn’t done so already. She hoped with all her heart he was soundly asleep.

The descent down the stairs was just as careful and slow, her breath held in pure anxiety and focus while her eyes stayed glued on the closed bedroom door she inched away from. Just a few steps more and she’ll be out of hot water.

A deep sigh of relief left her when her feet touch the floor of the downstairs hall, her thoughts no longer homing in on the man sleeping upstairs. It was time to eat and get ready for work instead. No more thinking about nightmares.

The morning sun greeted her with low rays of sunshine falling in through the kitchen windows, highlighting a few dust specks floating through the open space and shining against washed pots and pans. 

Emily lingered on the kitchen threshold as she looked inside, her gaze resting on the kitchen table and the ashtray filled with bent cigarette butts. A few small clumps of ash messily surrounded the tray and next to it were two whiskey bottles, one empty and laying on its side, the other half full. A low glass stood dangerously close to the edge and still contained a good portion of the amber-colored liquor, left unfinished for reasons she didn’t know. 

She could smell the drink from where she stood, including the ashes.

However, what prevented her from entering the kitchen was the firearm that lay on the table like it was nothing but an old newspaper or a piece of bread, an open pack of bullets resting beside it. Some of the copper-colored shells lay spread across the table as if they were used in a game of marbles, two or three lying carelessly on the floor. 

Her father’s gun. Another bad day at work, she’d take it. It would also explain the whiskey. A good thing she locked herself in her room when he came home, otherwise she would have had to deal with it. With him… 

A saddened sigh escaped through her nose and her shoulders drooped. 

The kitchen no longer looked welcoming thanks to what her father left behind without a damn care, the sunlight having grown cold like a snowy winter’s day. She wasn’t certain what was worse; this or getting molested by a skeleton. No, she knew the answer.

_How did it ever come to this…?_

The front door slammed shut behind her when she left early for work with no breakfast, having lost her appetite and the will to stay home any longer. A nauseating feeling burned in her stomach and chest, her thoughts dark with unwanted memories as she hurried down the garden path. She didn’t raise her head when she could hear her dad shouting from inside the house, calling out her name twice before yelling for her to be fucking quiet. His angered screaming followed her to the street and past the old picket fence until the sounds of the city drowned it out. 

She does not look forward to returning home tonight.

God, how badly she wanted to get away from this place. Her dream to open her own flower shop in another town still burned bright, no matter how life treated her. Mornings like these kept the fire going and the dream alive. The sooner she’s gone, the better. She really needs to keep her job…

She tried to cheer herself up by thinking about where she was headed but even “Daisies” got tainted with unpleasantries. All thanks to that selfish prick of a monster. For a moment she wondered if she was safe anywhere in the city, watching the familiar but bleak-looking scenery pass by after she got on the first bus to greet her at the bus stop. 

There was only one place she could think of.

Her blue and brown eyes lingered on a five-story tall building the bus passed halfway into the trip to her work. 

She lived there once, on the third floor, room 32. It was a shoddy place to live in but it was hers back then. A small apartment with a leaking shower, a tiny kitchen, and only one room but it made her happy. It was her home for several years, four years of independence within Edge City. She loved living there until…

Emily looked at her own reflection visible in the window when repressed memories about someone she loved dearly bubbled to the surface.

Her mother was suddenly gone. Torn out of her life by cruel fate. She misses her, a lot. Her father didn’t take the loss well, hardly spoke about it, and when he did it was always in a drunken and aggressive stupor where he blamed all except himself. Monsters were always the blame… 

His job suffered during the months after her passing, and so did his health. He looked deeper and deeper into whichever liquor bottle he could get his hands on, never satisfied with the empty bottoms he would find. His search was never-ending and Emily took the fallout from it every single time, whether she wanted it or not. It got worse after he demanded she’d come back home. He believed she would be safer under his care than continue living alone as an unmarried woman in a world where monsters roamed freely. 

She refused at first, not wanting to leave her apartment and live with a man who was becoming more unstable by the day, but there was no denying or disobeying him. She tried a little too hard one time. Let’s just say it didn’t end well for her…

_That’s life in Edge City_, she thought bitterly after she forced herself to block out any thoughts about her father and the recent past. It shouldn’t be like this though. Not here in Edge City or anywhere else on the Surface. Why does one need money to find a shred of happiness in this Godforsaken place? It was fucking stupid.

~*~

Her heart was heavy when she got off the bus and walked down the street to the flower shop, her steps not as certain as the days before. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter the closer she got to “Daisies”, slowly rekindling with her excitement to work there.

Fathers, mobsters, and monsters be damned. 

No glass shards snapped or crunched under her feet as she approached the shop, and no smashed-in window or open door awaited her. While the glass was still missing, a large piece of cardboard covered the gaping hole in the door and was held in place by two wooden planks and a few nails. The smell of flowers and a barrage of pleasant colors welcomed her when she opened the door and entered the shop, finally feeling like she was home.

It wasn’t opening time just yet but the shop looked ready for business, most traces of yesterday’s ordeal erased with a good scrubbing and sweeping.

“Good morning, Mr. Franklin,” she called out, trying to sound chipper. She stuck her head into the hallway behind the shop to listen before she peered into the office, hoping to not find another bloody mess and terrifying monsters. Luckily, she didn’t. Sure, the office space was a little messy but nothing nightmare-inducing. 

There was no sign of the old florist inside the small room, however, his coat hung in its usual place by the door; a sign he was here. She couldn’t help but worry, though. Bloodstains were still visible on the walls, along with scraped-off wallpaper where she tried to scrub the blood off without much success. Some redecorating was in order to get rid of the last visible reminders of the previous day.

She turned her attention towards the end of the narrow hallway, at first not thinking much of it until it hit her rather hard. The tense feeling in her chest tightened and she could feel her knees beginning to shake the longer she stood and unintentionally stared into the hallway, memories and phantom touches sweeping over her and making her restless.

Right there… That wall.

She imagined what it must have looked like from where she was standing, how small and helpless she must have looked in comparison to that giant. She brought her hand up to cover her ear before letting her fingers wander down her neck, reimagining the wet trail something hot and slippery left behind when she was pinned against the wall. Thinking about it gave her goosebumps. 

What exactly was it? It couldn’t have been his tongue; he’s a skeleton, nothing but bones wrapped up in fine expensive clothes. He can breathe though, and his breath was warm… And she did notice the pinkish tint across his cheekbones. How was that even possible? How could he--Wait, no. Why is she even wondering and thinking about this?

She angrily stomped her foot down to lecture herself and return to reality, the familiar sense of disgust swelling in her stomach. 

This is fucking ridiculous. There will be no more fantasizing about what happened and no more wondering about how that disgusting skeleton works.

Maybe it is magic?

...

_Damn it, Emmy._

A frustrated huff left her as she disappointedly shook her head and forced herself down the hallway, glaring at the wall as if it was the blame for everything. She was looking for Mr. Franklin, not Sans bloody Gaster. 

Faint sounds from the outside world became clearer the closer she got to the open backroom door, a soft breeze blowing through. There were voices too, and they were the reason why she hesitated to step inside. At least she could see the old man from the doorway, the florist sitting outside on a pile of neatly stacked sacks and enjoying a smoke. He was talking to someone while sitting by the open dock doors but she couldn’t see who it was. 

She blinked in mild surprise when she noticed a stranger in the backroom looking her way, not recognizing the man. He gave her a smile and a nod in silent greeting before he headed for the dock doors with two small crates held under his arms, soon disappearing outside.

He must be part of a delivery or transport crew.

_Promise me you won’t linger too long in the backroom. Don’t go peeking under any tarps and don’t get in the way of the Gaster brothers’ business. It’s for your own good, trust me. The less you know, the better._

The florist’s words resounded in her head when she caught herself guessing as to what was in the crates the man carried outside. She should follow his advice; this really wasn’t her business and she didn’t want it to be either.

Returning to the front of the shop, she continued the pretense that she didn’t see anything suspicious or knew too much. She put on the dark green apron like she would every day except Sundays, tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears and started prepping her workspace with the required tools, rolls of paper and spools of twine and ribbon. 

No distracting thoughts, no annoyances or frustrations, and especially no more pain or fear. It was going to be just her and the flowers. There were a few orders which got delayed thanks to yesterday’s mobster business she wanted no part in, so she best get to work. A good thing she arrived earlier than usual.

After looking through the orders, she gathered the flowers and plant material she needed for the first order she prioritized, taking them from the organized shelved buckets on the other side of the shop with care. Some filler greenery, white and pink daisies, purple waxflowers, pink alstroemerias, and red carnations; this was going to be a colorful bouquet. Maybe for a date? She liked that thought.

Her work station was a workbench which was part of the L-shaped counter. The shop area was small and narrow so everything was a little compact. She didn’t mind too much, she liked she was able to overlook the shop while she put together bouquets, and the compactness was cozy in a way. 

She eyed the cash register when she lay everything down on the workbench and organized the flowers and plant material she had picked for the order, the register no longer able to properly close after it got damaged during the robbery. At least there was no more blood staining the counter… 

_No, don’t think about it. Focus on the flowers_, she told herself after picking up a knife to start cleaning the long stems, attempting to drown in her work and find some relaxation in it. She already had enough stress and negativity for the day.

It was nice and quiet for a while until the gentle chiming of the bell above the door announced a visitor. Emily looked up from her work and towards the opening door with an arched brow, reminding herself the shop wasn’t open just yet. She waited for whoever it was to show themselves as the carton box cover hid whoever was there, though instantly regretted it when someone unnaturally tall and pale ducked inside.

_Ah shit... It’s a Gaster._

Her spine stiffened with the chilling sensation of fear while she gawked at the lean skeleton entering the shop, the monster not noticing her until he put his black hat back on and closed the door behind him with another jingling of the bell. His gloved hand stayed on the doorknob as he lingered by the door, seemingly surprised to see her just as she was to see him.

She seriously had hoped she wouldn’t see any of the two skeleton brothers ever again, landlords of the shop or not. This was the one who called himself the “Great” Papyrus, the one with the bone club. She had no idea what he was like, other than speaking in third person and putting too much oomph behind his every word. Was he like his brother, an asshole who likes to molest helpless humans? Or was he worse?

_Fuck, she is staring._

She quickly lowered her gaze after they stared at each other in silence for longer than she found comfortable, quickly pretending to be hard at work. She cursed at herself as she couldn’t stop her hands from trembling, fumbling with her work while trying to play it cool. It became worse when he walked over and didn’t continue walking like she hoped he would, the skeletal monster standing still on the other side of the bench. 

It was hard to not look at him, to not take a peek at what he was doing and find out his intentions. He was just… standing there with a hand resting on the edge of the workbench, the black leather of his glove hiding from her if he too was just bones like his brother. Judging by the thinness of his fingers, she made the correct guess that he was.

After many feeble encouragements and raking nerves, she forced herself to catch a glimpse of the “Great” Papyrus’s skull, her fingers nimbly continuing with removing any unwanted leaves from the stem she was holding. 

To her biggest surprise, that single glowing pinprick within his unscarred eye socket wasn’t on her face or her chest, but on her hands. He quietly watched with an intensity that left her a little speechless, uncertain what to make of it. 

Was he actually interested in what she was doing?

She tested it by laying the prepped flower aside to continue with cleaning another, his single eye following her hands as she picked the next flower from the organized piles she had laid out across the workbench. It continued to follow and watch them even after she started cutting away any excess leaves. 

Huh… She didn’t expect that. 

The realization he wasn’t interested in her like his brother was the day before began to sink in, and, while it calmed her nerves a bit, it couldn’t silence the tiny voice whispering in her ear. How long would it take for him to show his true colors? Before she might get dragged across that counter and get either ravished or murdered in cold blood? 

No, he was just watching her work, nothing more. Right? Besides, this was nice in a way… Maybe he has a thing for flowers, too?

“SURFACE FLOWERS ARE RATHER LACKLUSTER, AREN’T THEY?”

_Ex-fucking-cuse me?_

Emily wasn’t sure if to look offended or baffled after he finally broke the silence with an insult towards a thing she loves. She stared at the skeleton with an agape mouth and large eyes, the offense she felt shimmering unintentionally through.

Sure, she can agree that daisies aren’t exactly the most interesting looking flowers out there, especially mixed in with different flowers, but to call all flowers lackluster was a big statement to make.

“I-I am not sure,” she stammered after barely shaking off the shock, still wondering if she was being toyed with. “They aren’t to me. I think they look beautiful.” She gestured to the clusters of various flowers behind Papyrus to prove her point, the sea of colors adorning the walls and window the perfect view whenever she would look up from her work.

He turned half around to see what she was pointing at, silently taking in every single bucket full of flowers with a neutral expression across his long face. It only took a few seconds before a hint of ponder appeared across his sharp features, the way he turned back to her catching her whole attention.

“TELL ME, HUMAN. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER?”

Her favorite…? That was an odd question to ask, especially with the strange tension hanging in the air. It warmed her cheeks with a faint blush, his disposition flustering her before she answered quietly to indulge him,” sunflowers.”

“I SEE. DO THEY EMIT LIGHT OR RADIATE WARMTH?”

_What?_

“No…?”

“ARE THEY ON FIRE OR COMBUST WHEN THEY BLOSSOM?”

_Again, what?_

“N-no, they don’t.”

_Is… is he serious?_

“AND THAT IS WHY FLOWERS FROM THE UNDERGROUND ARE SUPERIOR,” the skeleton stated as if it was fact before he added a little bothered,” HONESTLY, WHY NAME THEM AFTER THE SUN IF THEY DON’T POSSESS SUN-LIKE QUALITIES.”

_Oh my God, he is serious_. She got rid of her awestruck stare by rapidly blinking her eyes, completely taken aback by what was unfolding. Was she supposed to think his misunderstanding was endearing or concerning? She couldn’t make head or tail of the skewed situation, too afraid to accidentally make him angry and unleash the monster she feared him to be.

She couldn’t help it, though. She couldn’t help but think it was funny in some twisted way. She’d blame her nerves for softly laughing behind the hand she tried to stifle herself with, her soul flaring with regret and dread. Those feelings spiked like sharp blades when the tall skeleton rose a thin brow plate and squinted one of his sockets upon hearing her giggle, staring her down with an inquisitive gaze.

Seems she offended him after all… _Way to go, Emily. You’re dead now._

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just…” 

What could she possibly say to prevent her soul from getting ripped out of her chest and hungrily devoured? Which kind of pleas would appease him the most? Would he even listen to them? Honesty. She had to be honest, no matter the fears of death.

“I’ve never been to the Underground before, not even near it. Aside from Golden Flowers, its flora is unknown to me,” she admitted after clearing her throat and apologizing, her nervous gaze diverting to her hands and the white daisy she held to not make things worse. 

“YOU ARE MISSING OUT, HUMAN,” Papyrus said with a mixture of arrogance and disappointment. “HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF A FLOWER PERSON IF YOU HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN MOST OF THEM?”

He was rather forward and honest, wasn’t he? Maybe a little condescending, too, but it didn’t feel like he meant any harm with it. He didn’t seem as angry as she expected he would be, either. He wasn’t even looking at her as he picked through the bundle of flowers lying between them, examining the leaves, petals, and stems with an expression of a slight disinterest which didn’t match his actions.

Was something catching his eye, she wondered as his leather-clad fingers hovered over the red carnations she had picked for the bouquet she was putting together. He picked one up to twirl it between his fingers, watching it intently like he had watched her work. The sight brought a small smile to her lips.

It was as red as his scarf.

She took a better look at the skeleton while he leaned on the workbench and distracted himself, suddenly not finding him very threatening. She was no fool; he was a full-fledged mobster and a monster to boot. His height was intimidating and so were his sharp angles and teeth. And the lack of flesh and skin wasn’t exactly a comforting sight to behold. But he was oddly expressive for being only bones and he had yet to show any intention to hurt her. That counts for something, right?

“I would love to someday learn about what the Underground has to offer, like Echo flowers? I heard amazing things about them,” she said with a dreamy sigh, her smile growing a little while she told herself to stay realistic. “But until then, I will enjoy what the Surface has to offer. Who knows… Maybe Mr. Franklin will import some flowers from the Underground to sell to humans here. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Papyrus looked up from the flower with a thoughtful expression upon hearing her question, a matching hum vibrating behind his closed jaws. The thoughtful expression let up when Emily reached for the red carnation he held and gently took it from him, his sockets narrowing.

“May I…?” she asked while gesturing with the flower to the collar of his black suit jacket, quietly implying something. 

He visibly hesitated as he took his weight off the workbench counter, his suspicion all too clear but he didn’t object either. He kept perfectly still after she trimmed the flower’s long stem and fished out a thin silver pin from her many tools, letting her attach the red carnation to the pointed lapel while she bent far over the workbench and stood on her toes to reach him.

“There.” She took a small step back to admire her work and little gesture once the flower was pinned in place, smiling at him. “It suits you.”

Perhaps this was her way to thank him for unknowingly saving her from his brother’s clutches. Or to show she doesn’t mind him too much. She wasn’t too sure. Whatever the reason, his reaction made it worth it.

He held the lapel to have a better look at the new accessory, taking his time with it before he pulled his coat back in place and adjusted his tie, a hint of a smile showing across his sharp teeth. It was a little creepy but it made him less intimidating at the same time. Did she detect pride and appreciation as well? She’d like to think so. 

There was no verbal expression of gratitude from him but she didn’t mind. She was already happy enough that she was being treated decently. She expected far worse when he entered the shop.

“Truck’s loaded, Paps. It’s time to go.”

Her bashfulness flipped over so hard upon hearing a different but familiar voice within the shop, that she nearly broke her neck by how fast she snapped her head around to look at the source. Papyrus was less startled when he looked over to his stout brother standing in the doorway, his casual stance growing composed as he nodded in understanding. 

It seems their little conversation about flowers was over.

Emily kept her eyes turned away from Sans after she saw him standing there, her lips pressed into a thin line while she bit the inside of her cheek to not cause a scene. Damn it, of course that asshole had to interrupt something pleasant, and just after she managed to get on the good side of his brother. Talk about awful timing. She should have known he was here too… 

“I WILL LET YOU CONTINUE WITH PRETTIFYING YOUR INFERIOR SURFACE FLOWERS, HUMAN,” Papyrus said without sounding like he was mocking her. “PERHAPS ONE DAY, YOU WILL PROVE ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WRONG. THOUGH I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT.”

She would have smiled at him if his bastard of a brother wasn’t standing there, perhaps laughed a little, too. Instead, she weakly nodded while stiffly trying to ignore the other skeleton, hoping he’ll leave sooner than later.

~*~

Sans looked between the two after Papyrus said a peculiar goodbye to the woman and came his way, wondering what that was about. He stepped aside to let the tall skeleton through, his sockets narrowing when he caught a glimpse of the red flower presented on his chest. That wasn’t there before… Now he really wondered what all this was about.

“Car’s parked at the back,” he said with less enthusiasm than before, no longer looking after his brother as he tried to figure things out by himself. It annoyed him. “Tell Ed his truck is in good hands and that he can stop worryin’ about it. I’ll be with ya shortly.” 

He waited with a tinge of impatience for Papyrus to enter the backroom and meet up with Edward, listening to the ebbing sound of footsteps before he pulled his shoulders up and conjured his broad grin back. His whole being focused on the woman who looked at him like a mouse caught in a trap once she dared to glance his way, the sight of her enticing him in many ways. 

“Glad ya decided to stick around,” he said as he approached her, feasting his eyes while he could. He had waited to see her again after yesterday’s misunderstanding was cleared up by the old man. He ventured behind the counter, a place he had no business being in, and it obviously scared her as she backed away from him until she couldn’t go any further, blocked in by his broad body and the workbench.

“You aren’t giving me much choice,” she managed to spit out after she snatched the knife she used to prune the flowers, its small thin blade pointing at him. It shook in her grasp, a pitiful act of resistance but he thought it was cute. The look in her eyes was far sharper and captivated him more than whatever she was trying to do, knowing she didn’t stand a chance against him.

The sense of power was intoxicating.

Sans chuckled as he eyed the knife, having a feeling of deja vu. “Ya have a bad habit of pullin' dinky toy weapons at people ya just met, y'know that?” 

She scoffed. “I can’t help it that your ugly face sparks that reaction.”

Really, that was her comeback? She must be scared senseless if that’s all she could come up with. 

His sudden boisterous laughter made her flinch and readjust her hold on the knife, the poor woman unable to stop herself from trembling while she glared at him. “Cuttin' me deep there, dollface,” he mocked as he leaned in close, his nose cavity almost touching the tip of her nose. The end of her knife pressed against his chest after he closed the distance between them, not yet poking through his shirt.

He was all she’s been thinking about the past two days, wasn’t he? She hated him so much right now, it was dripping off her face. Not exactly a nice look for her but it stroked his ego all the same.

Does she have the guts or resolve to stab that knife into his chest after he dared to lean into it? He could feel the vibrations of her trembling hand through the blade as he taunted her with his close presence and arrogant grin, but she didn’t apply any pressure on it, instead fearfully staring at him with bared teeth and flushed cheeks. It seems not.

Best spare her the embarrassment.

He grabs for her wrist and roughly slammed it against the edge of the workbench, forcing her to drop the measly little weapon. She hissed in pain through her clenched jaws and buckled, though he kept her up to show who is in charge.

“Ya really need to be more careful with the fights ya pick,” he said while keeping her wrist down, his body pressing against hers. “Ya aren’t exactly cut out for this.”

Her soul burned so brightly in her chest, the blue glow drawing his attention away from her twisted face. He can feel it struggle in the grasp of his magic when it began to wrap around the heart-shaped anomaly that defined who she was. A blue human soul stands for honesty and morals. Not exactly compatible with the color of his own soul but he liked that. It would be a challenge to make it work, or to see how it will click.

For now, however, it didn’t need to work. He just wants to indulge himself further into what he can spark inside of her by every look, touch, and action he gives her. Every little breath, shudder and desperate glance was rewarding, but the best prize is to bask in her soul, even if it tries to reject him. One day, it will open up to him, he was sure of it. But until then… 

His grin widened when she panicked against his broad chest after he pushed his hips firmer against her slender waist, his forming bulge pulsating with hunger. He didn’t like how easily she lured him in with her large eyes and quivering lips, how irresistible she was to him for a human, but he won’t ever tell her this. It was his little secret.

Her back was pinned against the workbench, her body stiff and still to not writhe against him after she felt the warmth of his crotch pressing against her. She had nowhere to go, his soul magic keeping her where he wanted her to be. But no matter how arrogant and confident he was, he still underestimated how much fight she had left in her.

He clenched his sockets shut when a literal bush smacked him across the face, a burst of petals and leaves exploding from the impact. He wildly shook his head and spat out the plant material which got between his sharp teeth and in his mouth, uncertain what hit him. It wasn’t until he saw the snapped stalks and broken flowers Emily tightly clutched in one hand that he understood.

Desperation can do silly things sometimes.

Green sap stained his round cheekbone, and a few white and pink petals stuck to his jaw and vest as he glared in disbelief at the woman. She shot him another warning glance as she rose whatever was left of the unfinished bouquet, a shimmer of regret present inside her blue and brown eyes. She knew she fucked up but she refused to yield.

Good, he liked that. He liked that a lot.

He snickered from behind his sharp teeth with a wicked look inside his eye sockets before he yanked her closer to not give her another chance to whack more flowers across his skull. He grabbed for her hair to forcefully hold her head in place, smothering her as he forced his blood-red tongue down her throat.

His glowing tongue was warm, slippery and large as he deeply kissed the stunned woman in a moment of pure hunger, want and sheer lust, suckling on her soft lips and tasting her. Her warmth and squirming awakened plenty inside of him, her muffled little moans and whimpers making him wish he had more time to fully enjoy this. She was so dainty in his embrace, so small against his body.

Emily had dropped what was left of the bouquet when he shocked and overpowered her with a single action, her fingers digging into his back and pressing against the shirt and vest covering the hollow spaces between his thick ribs. Her squirming wasn’t doing them any favors, his formed member painfully throbbing in the confined space of his pants. He wasn’t shy to let her feel the girth of it, the bulge pressing against her heat as he kept her locked in his passion.

Warm. Wet. Soft. All if it was driving him crazy. Shit, if only he had more time. He would lift her onto the bench, pull her dress up and fuck her so hard, she’ll beg for more. Hold her by her ankles and let her take every inch of his red ectoplasm cock while pounding into her. Fill her up. Spread those soft cheeks. Lap up her juices. Fuck her some more. 

_Shit. Shit. **Shit.**_

He released her as suddenly as he had grabbed her, his sharp teeth stained with his red-tinted saliva. He ran a hand across his face as he took a deep breath to compose himself, his head spinning and bones quivering. Wrong place, wrong time, just like last time. He was breathing as heavy as she was, a dusty blush coloring his cheekbones while her soft cheeks were the strongest and deepest red he had yet seen on a human woman.

She didn’t look too happy though, the daze beginning to wear off when everything started to cool down and she was no longer held and smothered by his hands and tongue. She was leaning on the bench with a hand tightly clasped over her mouth, her nails digging into her cheeks and her large discolored eyes cast at the floor rather than him. The bun she had tied her long silver-blonde hair in was messier than before. For a moment, Sans wondered what she looks like with her hair down and how it might accentuate her expressive eyes.

He got his cocky grin back when he caused her whole body to twitch and flinch during the release of her blue colored soul from his magic’s greedy grasp, unable to help himself from tormenting her a little more. Not like he hadn't done the same to himself by denying what he wanted. He already counted his lucky stars for not getting interrupted by Papyrus, Edward or an unaware customer.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” he smirked boldly after he turned his back on her and brushed off any flower remainders from his jacket, needing to take his leave. “Somewhere more private, maybe. Unless ya’re into this sorta thing. I won't judge.”

He froze in place when something shot past his skull and lodged into the wall opposite of him with an ominous thunk, the knife burrowed into the wood her answer. He looked at it in utter surprise before he glanced back to his flower girl, the woman glaring at him with a look that could kill while she slowly lowered the hand she had used. The radiance of her soul was so bright that it almost blinded him, the blue heart only he could see pulsing with her resentment and disgust. She was livid.

A dark laugh slipped free when he knew she meant business, having overstepped his boundaries a bit but he surely didn’t regret it. In fact, he greatly enjoyed it. A shame he couldn't finish what he started. “I knew ya would miss me,” he joked sarcastically. “But not _that_ much.”

His awful wordplay made her face even redder with a flush of anger and disbelief at his audacity to mock her like this, the woman seething as she snarled," you motherf--_Get the fuck out!_”

He nonchalantly raised his hands with another chuckle, showing her he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest but he’ll listen for once. It was time to go anyway. Red magic flared from his left socket before he cheekily winked at her, the large skeleton suddenly gone as if he had disappeared into thin air. All he left behind was a red mist, a repulsed and shaken Emily, and the taste of smoke-stained cherries in her mouth.

~*~

“FINALLY,” Papyrus grumbled when Sans suddenly appeared in the driver’s seat of their Bentley, not fazed by it in the slightest. He wove the red trails of his brother’s magic out of his face with a lazy waving of his gloved hand, not looking too happy about having been kept waiting. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?”

“Flowers,” came the simple reply while Sans leaned out of the window to motion for the two men driving the truck to get going, knowing he wasted enough of everyone’s time already. It was time to transport this shipment to where it needed to be and then deal with the buyers. Wingdings was counting on this deal to go smoothly so nobody better screw anything up.

He will have a hard time focusing on the task at hand, though, his mind still hazy from that moment of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to leave a comment.
> 
> In the next chapter, bullets and bones will rule the scene.


	3. Bones and Bullets

Finally, they were gone. 

Edward fished his pistol out from the back of his pants before laying it on his desk after he retreated into his office, not needing to keep the firearm close for the time being. With the Gaster brothers’ cargo removed from his shop and on its way to who knows where, the old florist had fewer worries to be troubled about. 

It was about time those crates were taken off his hands. He owed the skeletons and their gang far too much, so he knew it would only be a matter of time until a new favor is asked of him. Ever since the Gaster brothers won the turf war in this area, it was one favor after another, his flower shop an inconspicuous hiding place for whatever the monsters were plotting.

Nevertheless, those were thoughts for later. Papyrus was considerate enough to inform him that “the human woman” had arrived and while it was earlier than usual, it was a good enough time to open the shop. He was surprised that Emily came in today but he won’t look this given horse in the mouth; he should have guessed she would with how hard she worked to clean this place the day before.

A frown formed across his wrinkled, bruised, and bandaged face as he stepped into the shop area, finding a mess. There were flowers and broken stems littering the floor behind the counter, the young woman on her knees as she was cleaning it all up.

He rose a brow when he noticed something unusual sticking out of the wall he wanted to pass, taking in the shape of the knife. He knew this knife; it was his. He grabbed for the wooden handle before he wiggled the blade loose from the wooden panel it was stuck in, asking with intrigue but also caution,” what happened here?”

Emily didn’t look up from picking up a few petals, hiding behind her bangs. “A skeleton happened,” was her quiet answer, the soft tone of her voice not cloaking her agitation well enough.

He should have known. Edward sighed through his scabbed nose as he got behind the counter and put the knife away, shortly after crouching down by Emily. His old joints popped and his injuries whined but he stayed seated on his ankles and with his arms resting across his knees, his tired eyes on the young woman.

“I figured he was up to something,” he admitted, wishing he had listened to the red flags which rose at Sans’ questions about her. “Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She hesitated with a parting of her lips, withholding on speaking before she shook her head. Her wrist ached, her lips tingle from sharp nipping and she was certain bruises were forming across her lower back at this very moment, but no… He didn’t hurt her. Nothing happened. That’s what she will tell herself and that’s what she’ll tell the world.

As long as nothing had happened, the forceful kissing and grinding weren’t real, and neither were the conflicting thoughts and feelings which stormed through her head like an angry pack of rabid animals. 

She was beyond herself after she was left behind like she didn’t matter, as if nothing that happened mattered to the skeleton. So much anger and shame. Anger for him toying with her, and shame for her weakness. 

How many more times will this happen? Getting cornered and pinned down by him whenever he pleased, be shocked to the core by his threatening groping to then get cast aside like some common whore? A moment of personal fun at someone else’s expense… Was that all she was good for? Was she really this easy?

God, he dug too deep and left a mark on her soul she couldn’t wipe off. She hated it with every fiber in her body. She hated him. And yet here she was, swallowing it all down because, buried deep down amidst the disgust and hatred, was a tinge of want coated in a thick layer of fear and confusion. Fear for speaking up and paying the price with her life, confusion because she isn’t as angry as she should be, and want because… 

_Fuck, Sans, what did you do to me?_

“I am fine,” she finally answered and dropped what she has collected from the floor in the nearby bin. “He was just rude.” Extremely rude. No, intrusively rude. With his filthy cherry flavored cigar taste.

“Did he get angry and throw the flowers around, or…?”

“Oh… No, that was me,” she confessed sheepishly though wisely withheld on the details, not wanting to put the situation in words. “It happened before I knew it, I am sorry. I’ll pay back every stalk and stem that’s unusable, I promise.”

Edward shook his head as they stood back up rather than sit on the floor, saying to her with a dismissive wave of a hand,” I am sure it will be fine. Remake the order, please the customer and all’s well.”

They smiled at each other, one to encourage and the other to appreciate. She really was lucky to work for someone like him, though this shop could definitely do without the pests.

“You can rest easy, though,” Edward continued after Emily started to rearrange the collections of flowers and plants to see what needed to be replaced. “The Gaster brothers left not too long ago and I don’t expect them to drop by again any time soon. Maybe in a week or two… or three.”

Really? She will finally have some peace around here? Oh God, please let it be true. 

_I knew ya would miss me._

She suppressed a groan when the skeleton’s awful pun resounded in her head. As if she would miss him… Damn monster is so full of himself. She can still feel, taste and smell him and it bothered her. The sensation was seared into her brain, lingering. 

It was oddly… warm, that tongue of his. It surprised her he has one but then… She cast a quick glance below her waist, looking puzzled before becoming grossed out. 

_No._ No, she didn’t want to think about what she felt down there. A tongue was already enough of an enigma to keep her up tonight. Imagine thinking about--Oh God, she’s going to think about his boner all night, isn’t she?

Wonderful…

The old florist looked over the remaining orders while Emily hurried over to the wall of flowers to gather what she needed, trying not to think about the mystery of skeletal genitalia. He could hear her mutter to herself with what best could be described as a glower, the young woman not her usual happy self. She did seem a little jumpy and frustrated but he’ll blame whatever happened here the past two days.

“You can stay away from any sharp objects now too,” he weakly joked and coughed up a laugh when he caught her jumping in embarrassment and looking his way with large eyes. She quickly smiled, however, although a little nervously, before she returned to the workbench to finally finish the bouquet she was working on.

First a trowel, then a knife… What’s next, a gun? Edward wondered with a smirk as he headed to the front of the shop and turned the OPEN sign around, the “A Dozen Daisies For You” open for business again after a day off. Life went on as usual, no matter the damage or trauma.

He flicked on the small radio behind the counter after he gathered the needed flowers for a preordered flower arrangement, seating himself on a tall stool behind Emily to start working. He may be injured and old, but he still had a job to do and a shop to run. 

The two florists stood back to back as they prepped flowers, idly talking with each other about nothing in particular while listening to the jazzy tunes softly pouring into the shop. Any thoughts about monsters and mobsters was kept quiet and locked out of the shop, staying outside where it all belonged.

  


* * *

  


It was still early in the morning but the streets of Edge City were busy. A dark red Bentley car followed a small truck through the crowded streets towards the edge of town, keeping a fair distance to not hug its rear bumper and give away they were a set.

The Gaster brothers kept a close eye on the traffic, noting any suspicious drivers which lingered too long in the same lane or stuck too close to the truck. Luckily, any automobile they marked as a target was quickly dismissed; nobody was tailing them from what they could tell. Can’t be too careful, though, not in this city. Not a single car could be trusted.

They were to meet with the Green Needles mob in charge of the Slums, a rundown part of the city which was closest to Mt. Ebott and the Underground. Wingdings had his eyes set on this area and negotiated a long time with the boss of the Green Needles, Tony Adler. 

Adler was a coward according to Wingdings, a man who feared monsters and let bullets and drugs do most of the talking. Many of the Green Needles were junkies or alcoholics who had gathered under Adler to get their fix for a bit of dirty work, the organisation of the gang sloppy and their loyalty questionable. It was unhinged enough to make it work… That’s what Wingdings believed.

The Slums was the right area for monsters to settle in Edge City. Close enough to home and far enough away from the city’s center where humans still ruled supreme. Wings had tried to assault the area under a different guise to test the waters, and deemed a forceful takeover of the Slums to be a waste of finances and resources. Although a mess, the Green Needles came in large numbers and were fed by addictions and promises for more of the good stuff, their empathy for living far gone.

Instead, the eldest Gaster brother turned his attention to a different part of the city not far from the Slums, a rather small area which he and his brothers easily overtook with brute force. The bloodstained victory caused a ripple effect that made other gangs aware of the monstrous Gaster brothers, a warning they weren’t to be messed with. Adler took this message to heart, no matter his large entourage. 

When Wingdings suggested they merge their gangs in exchange for shared territory in which monsters can live freely in the Slums, and offered firearms and opium on top of that, Adler was eager to strike a deal. Wings knew the human had no love for monsters, the guns and drugs were all he cared about. But it won’t matter in the end anyway; the Slums are as good as theirs if the deal goes through without a hitch.

Papyrus would have been on his own during the upcoming negotiations with the Green Needles, but after what happened at the exact location where the Gasters stored their wares, Wingdings insisted Sans joined him. Just in case.

All Sans wanted to do instead of staring at the back of an ugly truck, was to smoke and chew on a cigar. His bones were filled to the brim with sexual frustration and it made him uneasy and unfocused, annoyed. He tried lighting a cigar shortly after he started driving, but unwillingly stopped the attempt when Papyrus barked at him to not smoke while they were driving together. The ride had been quiet since until Papyrus suddenly spoke up with a sharp icebreaker.

“ARE YOU HARASSING THAT HUMAN, BROTHER?”

The agitated drumming of his digits against the steering wheel stopped when Sans heard the question, arching a brow plate. What human? Did he mean the flower girl? Why was he asking about that? What did he know? Why did he care?

“WELL, ARE YOU?”

Sans’ shoulders lowered with the long exhale of air he pushed through his nose cavity, his sockets lulling while he stayed quiet after releasing the deep sigh. It was none of his business, so he didn’t need to answer.

Papyrus frowned at the silent treatment he received and leaned a little closer to his brother, his eye sockets narrowing. If he had a nose, or skin for that matter, it would have scrunched with suspicion after he said his name with a voice of a mother lecturing her child,” SANS.” 

The broad and large skeleton shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept his eyes forward, getting visibly irritated while he continued to refuse to answer. Papyrus was getting just as irritated.

“_SANS!_”

“What do y--What are y--Why even--What even, Paps?!” Sans snapped after fumbling over his words with the loss of his temper, his sharp golden tooth flashing as he glared at Papyrus who had leaned in far too close with a judgemental look. “Of course I am not harassin’ her! Why would I?”

Well, he was but he can’t tell his little brother that, now can he? There would be nothing left of this car if he did.

“BECAUSE YOU HAVE STUFF ON YOUR FACE THAT NORMALLY DOESN’T END UP THERE, AND GIVEN YOU TOOK A WHILE WITH THE HUMAN WOMAN, THE DOTS ARE STARTING TO CONNECT.”

_Shit_. He quickly rubbed his cheekbone against his shoulder and sleeve after the reminder of getting whacked in the face with flowers, wiping off the plant sap and whatever else was still sticking to him. He completely forgot about it after the knife barely missed him.

Though, that’s oddly observant of Papyrus… If Sans could sweat, he would be drenched by now, and it didn’t help that he could feel his brother’s inquisitive gaze searing into the side of his skull, the skeleton wanting answers.

“Well, yer dots are wrong. What’s it to ya anyway?” Sans asked as he ground his sharp teeth together, keeping his eyes on the road and the small truck further up ahead. “She yer sweetheart or somethin’?” _She better not be._

“A HUMAN AS MY SWEETHEART? HAH, DON’T BE RIDICULOUS, SANS,” Papyrus scoffed as he leaned back in his seat and tugged on the red scarf he wore more often than not, disapprovingly shaking his skull. Humans and monsters romantically involved… it was unheard of.

Sans released the steering wheel with one hand and flicked his wrist at the carnation pinned to the front of Papyrus’ black jacket, firmly gesturing to it to prove his point. 

Papyrus blinked as he looked down to his chest and eyed the red flower, asking seriously,” YOU MEAN THIS? SHE SAID IT SUITS ME AND, WHILE I QUESTION HER INTENTIONS, I DO AGREE.” He threw a smug grin in Sans’ direction after he saw him roll his sockets, saying childishly,” COME ON, BROTHER. DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GETTING JEALOUS OVER A LITTLE FLOWER.”

“Don’t even go there, Paps. I swear ya’ll regret it.” 

The tall skeleton snickered at the threat Sans slid his way, not taking it seriously. He was relishing this, wasn’t he? Of course he was, look at the accomplished mug of his.

“For fuck’s sake, are we there yet?” Sans propped his arm onto the door rest and held his skull, not liking the topic at hand. It was already difficult enough to not think about the human and all the ways he wanted to have her. Now he had to worry about her warming up to his brother and vice versa? Shit…

He loved his little brother, he did, even if he could be rough towards him. It wasn’t uncommon for them to argue and fight, sometimes violently, other times jokingly but mostly with too much verbal and physical aggression. But even though Papyrus means a lot to him, Sans doesn’t tolerate anyone touching what he claims as his own… and this woman was his alone. 

So, that flower better not mean anything.

  


The warehouse was stripped bare but it surely wasn’t empty. Mobsters were spread out within the large hall and outside, positioned on walkways and corners, and by all exits and entries. The Gaster brothers didn’t need a map to know where to go, not after the first tommy gun wielding Green Needle showed themselves in the deserted industrial area the meeting was going to be held in. They were like beacons leading the way, guiding the red Bentley and the brown truck further into the Slums and towards the warehouse where Adler was waiting for them.

The air was thick with smoke churning out of the nearby factory chimneys, the smells of molten metal and coal heavy, even with the car windows closed.

This was dangerous territory, both Sans and Papyrus knew it. Even though Wingdings agreed on the meeting place, he wasn’t the one driving into it with very little backup. His younger brothers weren’t too worried, however, although Sans could think of better things to do than drive into a lion’s den. A nap sounds nice.

He exchanged a glance with Papyrus after he slowly drove into the large warehouse, the tall skeleton having quietly counted all the armed mobsters he could see. Wings wasn’t exaggerating when he claimed the Green Needles’ numbers were far too high to take on without a strategy; it was four against twenty at this very moment, perhaps even more. They were severely outnumbered but Sans didn’t worry about it, and neither did his brother. Their two human companions, however… It would be a lie to say one of them wasn’t about to shit themselves.

And there was the man of the hour; Tony Adler, the man Wingdings called a coward more than once. His blond hair was combed back neatly across his scalp and he sported a trimmed goatee on his pointy chin. He was lanky, and, although his suit wasn’t as fine or expensive as Papyrus’ suit, he was better dressed than the men he surrounded himself with.

Junkies, the lot of them. It showed. Their clothes were either dirty or didn’t fit properly, their faces rugged, sunken in or unshaven, their skin sickly pale or accompanied with heavy dark bags under their eyes. They were alert but jumpy, perhaps paranoid, maybe even hearing voices. Their loyalty to Adler and the Slums depended on the “fix” he provided to them in the forms of absinthe, cocaine, opium, whiskey, and other kinds of sedatives for body and mind. No wonder they called themselves the Green Needles… 

“BOSS ADLER,” Papyrus greeted the man stiffly but politely after he stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut, soon joined by his brother.

Adler didn’t greet or approach the skeletons when they came his way, instead he waited and watched them with a skeptical eye while keeping a good distance. “He didn’ say there'd be two of yous,” he eventually said, not sounding too pleased.

Aah, his inner little racist was showing. He couldn’t hide it from Sans behind that cloud of cheap cologne he wore, the fear and dislike he had towards monsters shimmering through like nuggets of gold in a riverbed’s mud. Who of the two brothers scared him the most? The extremely tall and serious looking Papyrus, or the robust and sadistic looking Sans?

“All the more to enjoy, no?” Sans joked, his fanged grin growing sharper as he leered at the human. 

Adler was not amused. “Is Don Gaster upholding his end of the deal?” 

“Ten crates of firearms to protect the turf with, and fifteen canisters of opium for whichever ladies need shushing,” Sans summed up, his red glowing eyelight wandering over the more obvious addicts. He could swear a few started to get a little finicky at the mention of opium. Not really the best time to be holding a gun… 

“ALL IS ACCOUNTED FOR, AS PROMISED. AND WHAT OF YOUR END OF THE DEAL, HUMAN?”

A twinge of discomfort washed over the man after Papyrus called him a human rather than by his name, making the divide between their species all too clear. He forced a smile. 

“If the goods are in order and Don Gaster continues his promise to provide more on a monthly basis, we'd be more t’an happy to accept you monsters into our family. The east side of the Slums will be open, plenty of space for yous there.”

_What a load of bullshit_, Sans thought to himself as he took another gander at the humans present. Truly, not a single monster was in the ranks of the Green Needles. They were all desperate and lost men. There was no love for monsters here, the glares of distrust and dislike stabbing into him and Papyrus like pins in a needle cushion. They only wanted the drugs the monsters promised to provide, and Adler wanted the strength and reputation of the Gasters in his arsenal to have a leg up against other gangs. 

He was lucky he managed to drum too many people behind him, otherwise a sharp bone would be sticking through his throat already. Now, Sans had to endure this charade to allow Wingdings to infiltrate the Green Needles and take over from the inside with his well-planned schemes, all to make the Slums a territory for monsters in which the Gaster brothers are in charge.

“HOW GENEROUS OF YOU, HUMAN. MONSTER KIND WILL BE PLEASED.”

Sans smirked with a wide grin at Papyrus’ response, knowing he half meant it.

It was good of Wingdings to put Papyrus in charge of these negotiations; his patience and tolerance are much higher than Sans’. Less trigger happy, more social even though his interactions with humans aren’t exactly the smoothest. He is also more responsible than his older brother, keeping the house clean, doing his jobs properly, nagging Sans about other chores, and cooking meals. He sounds like a downright softy, doesn’t he?

“Anything for my partners,” Adler said and beckoned three of his men to check on the truck’s cargo. “So, w’en will I meet the Don in person? Phonecalls and messengers are useful and fine but--”

_**BANG**_

Adler’s head snapped abruptly backward after a loud sound interrupted him, the man stumbling and tripping over his own feet while a fountain of crimson sprayed forth from the back of his head. He hit the ground with a thud, his face distorted with wide open eyes and curled up lips as blood gushed from the fresh hole in his forehead. He lay still in his own brain matter splattered across the floor, the red puddle forming underneath him staining his blond hair.

_What the f--_

Sans flinched in startle when something tore through his vest with another loud bang, a bullet piercing right through him from the back. It was a painful sensation that burned but luckily that was all. A good thing he wasn’t a meat bag like these humans and the shot missed his ribs and Soul, otherwise he’d be on the floor with the unfortunate and very dead Adler. 

“_Shit!_” 

He grabbed for Papyrus when a chorus of gunshots erupted in the large hall, pulling him behind a nearby pillar for cover as bullets shot past them. The deafening rattling of tommy guns and the bangs of pistols filled the warehouse, chaos accompanying the sounds of terror like a thick fog. 

What the hell is going on? Who was shooting at who? What stupid idiot shot Adler right in the head? The brothers peeked around the pillar to try and figure it out, watching and hearing Green Needles fall from the surprise attack. Was it one of their own henchmen who shot Adler? No, the two guys were using the flower truck as cover from the hail of bullets pouring in through the warehouse’s main entrance; someone else was firing at them.

This was a ridiculous amount of firepower. The pillar was getting grated by the many bullets chipping away at the stone, the two brothers and Green Needles pinned down in their current positions. 

“Who the fuck is shootin’ at us?!” Sans shouted and pressed his back against the pillar, witnessing several Needles getting mowed down by another wave of bullets.

“YELLOW TIES.”

Sans glared up to Papyrus in disbelief and annoyance before he carefully took another peek to find a confirmation. Powdered debris hit his cheek and landed in his eye socket when a bullet pulverized the edge of the pillar, causing him to duck away while loudly swearing. He saw it though, a small hint of bright yellow flashing through the rising dust. 

That’s a color one doesn’t want to see during a turf war. It did explain the heavy fire but it surely didn’t reassure the Gasters; they were in deep trouble, especially with the unreliable aid of the now very disorganized and dwindling Green Needles.

“So much for this shitty deal now that dear Tony became close friends with the floor,” Sans growled, getting restless as his cool started to slip. The presence of yellow tie wearing mobsters worried him, and for good reason. “We need to clear a path to the car and truck if we want to get out of here in one piece.”

Papyrus nodded in agreement; they had no choice but to retreat. He rose his gloved hands to draw two red glowing bones out of thin air, the long but sharp sticks hovering over his hands as he waited for an opening, a lull in the gunshots and shouting.

His stockier brother impatiently waited for the same so he could give Papyrus the cover fire he needed to reach the car, knowing this will drain his magic quicker than he’d like. Teleporting out of here wasn’t an option as he would leave his brother and two human henchmen behind, along with the valuable cargo. Cargo be damned though; it was his brother he didn’t want to lose in this.

“Go, Paps!” Sans barked when there was a pause in the deafening noise, his gravelly voice setting the tall skeleton into motion.

He swerved around the pillar with his long limbs before nimbly flinging one of his bones at the first mobster he came across, the sharp end piercing their side and causing them to drop their weapon with a pained cry. No blood was spilled; instead, a cloud of dust spewed from the mobster’s side after the glowing bone faded away and left a large gaping wound. 

It was a monster from the Underground, wearing a yellow tie.

The race of the mobster didn’t make Papyrus hesitate as he used his other bone to club the monster fiercely in the head, its jaw and skull snapping and cracking from the impact with a sickening sound and more dust, the monster crumbling apart after receiving a deadly blow. It only took a few seconds until there was nothing left of the monster, safe from their clothes and a yellow tie lying amidst a pile of dust.

Papyrus resummoned his lost bone after he ducked to the side to avoid getting pounced on by another monster mobster, three more bones forming and floating behind him to use as ammo in the attempt to reach the car. He was quick, precise and vicious, not showing any remorse or reluctance to skewer or smash his opponents with his weapons. A true killer.

With the attention drawn towards Papyrus’s murderous rampage, Sans took his own chance to jump into action and watch his brother’s back. His left eye socket flared bright red after he stepped out from behind the pillar, magic pouring free from the socket and surrounding his wicked grin like the thick smoke of his favored cigars. 

He’ll show these guys what a real gun is like.

A beastly skull materialized in front of him, the size of it almost as large as he was. Sharp teeth lined its long jaws, the bone scarred and worn. Only one eye was visible within its narrow sockets, glowing a menacing red and leering at any soul standing in its way. It looked hungry, wild and as wicked as its master. The sight alone scared a few of the Yellow Ties and the remaining Green Needles, the display of magic unlike anything they had seen before.

The skull widely parted its pointed and jagged jaws with an earth-shattering shriek after Sans simply pointed towards the warehouse’s exit, siccing his terrifying pet at the gang that was foolish enough to mess the deal up. The disembodied skull charged up, a blinding light growing in the back of its open maw before unleashing a destructive beam with a loud blast, piercing straight through the hall of the warehouse. Any monster caught in it turned instantly to dust; there was no escape.

Sans will admit this is an easy and cheap way to clear a path, it might even be considered cheating by any sore losers, but it took a lot out of him to summon a Gaster Blaster of this size. He could feel exhaustion prod his magic after the large skull fired another blast to grant Papyrus cover fire, still feeling sore where the bullet shot through him. He was enjoying this carnage, especially because it felt justified, though he knew they couldn't linger for much longer.

“_Benny!_” 

One of the two henchmen looked up from returning fire after hearing his name come from the Gaster with the flaring eye socket, the human looking terrified.

“Start the truck!”

“R-right, yes, boss!” Benny shuffled to his feet to no longer crouch behind the bullet-riddled truck. He didn’t sign up for a shootout; he was just muscle and could drive a truck, that was all he was good at. So, he can do this; he’ll get them out of here, maybe even save the day.

He motioned for his buddy to follow his lead and carefully moved alongside the vehicle, soon reaching the door. He yanked it open and was about to dive into the cab to start that engine when he suddenly toppled over like someone had sucker punched him. He flopped onto his side with his pistol still clutched in one hand, his body unmoving after a bullet drove into his temple and took him out in one swift blow.

“_Holy shit, Ben!_” his friend called out, stupidly giving his position away with his shrill voice. It didn’t take long for a few bullets to find him, the shots painting the interior of the truck’s cab and window red and salmon pink.

_Seriously_...? “Fuckin’ damn it,” Sans muttered annoyed after witnessing the loss of the two cronies.

So much for the cargo. Wingdings is not going to be happy about this, and Edward… Well, good old Eddie is going to crush his bones and turn them into glue when he finds out about his beloved truck. Not that the old florist’s anger and Wings’ disappointment were Sans’ biggest problems right now; he still needed to escape with Papyrus.

The remaining Green Needles were holding up the fight against the intruders, and so was Papyrus as bone after bone was launched or swung to take them down while he closed in on their car. He skewered one last opponent before he opened the door of the dark red Bentley and quickly slipped into the driver’s seat, blood and dust staining his long scarred skull and black suit. The car’s headlights jumped on after the engine roared to life with a swift turn of the keys. The tires spun and screeched until they managed to gain a grip on the concrete floor, the car flying forward before it made a sharp U-turn and drove at breakneck speed towards the exit. 

The windshield shattered and two of the four headlights popped when the Yellow Ties opened fire on the approaching car, though they weren’t able to slow it down, the car crashing through their makeshift wall of bullets and monsters that were too slow to move. 

Papyrus turned the wheel as far as he possibly could to make the car race around the corner and out of the reach of any more gunfire, the car almost flipping over with how sharp the turn was. He didn’t release the gas pedal and neither took his eye off the road when red flames flickered and swirled in the passenger seat before Sans appeared in it, the Gaster brothers having barely made it out of that death trap.

There was no time to stop or slow down, not as long as they were in the Slums and Edge City; they had to keep going and hope they wouldn't be chased. The wind blew through the broken window as Papyrus continued driving, brushing off the dust that stained their clothes and keeping their minds clear.

“What the fuck just happened?” Sans asked as he leaned forward and rested against the dashboard, running a hand across his round cracked skull to wipe away red-tinted sweat. “Why were Asgore’s goons there?”

All he got from Papyrus was a small shake of his head, the tall skeleton just as clueless. 

Asgore Dreemurr was a thorn in the Gaster brothers’ side for many years by now. He is the head honcho of the Royal mafia most monsters and humans nicknamed the Yellow Ties since recent years. The goat monster once controlled almost all of the Underground until tragedy struck and stripped him of his senses, his control having waned with the passing years. It didn’t soften his relentlessness, however; Asgore was known for being a vengeful and greedy tyrant, his dislike for the Surface and humans legendary. It was why it was peculiar to find his followers in the Slums.

What was his plan?

“Wings’ is gonna kill us,” Sans mumbled as he slowly sat back up, trying to get his thoughts in order. These negotiations definitely didn’t go according to plan. He expected trouble, even looked forward to a fight, but not this. 

He unbuttoned his vest to take a better look at the bullet hole and stuck one of his thick fingers through it, another good vest ruined. This was a killing shot; someone had it out for him and Adler… No surprise it was Asgore, but how did he find out about the Gasters’ meeting with the Green Needles? Were they followed after all, even with all the precautions they took? Did a Green Needle tattle on them?

_Good riddance_, he thought as he buttoned up his vest, the car no longer speeding through the city streets once they left the Slums and were on their way towards Mt. Ebott. From the looks of it, nobody was following them.

“Ya alright, Paps? Ye’re awfully quiet,” he remarked as he peered at the hood of the car, noting the damage the vehicle had taken. Hopefully no bullets hit the gas tank or anything else crucial; he wasn’t in the mood to walk home, not after that green and yellow colored mess.

Sans frowned when Papyrus took a little while to answer and glanced at his brother, noticing he was holding the steering wheel with only one hand, his other arm hanging limply down his side. 

“Paps?” 

He then saw it. The shoulder padding of Papyrus’ jacket was torn and the red carnation pinned to his lapel hung crooked and missed a few petals. Dust was slowly flowing from the tear, rolling down along the edge of the red scarf and collecting on his leg. Sans stared dumbfounded at the escaping dust before he suddenly yelled,” what the fuck, Paps, ye’re hurt! Pull the car over!”

“I AM FINE.”

Sans angrily thrust a finger at him and snarled with his large fang gleaming,” don’t ya ‘I am fine’ me! Why didn’t ya fuckin’ say anythin’?! Pull over!”

“I’M NOT DYING, SANS! A STRAY BULLET GOT ME DURING MY DARING ESCAPE AND CRACKED MY COLLAR BONE, THAT’S ALL.”

Of all the times to suck something up and be the better monster, he chooses this one? Sans clenched his large hand into a fist after he forced himself to stop angrily pointing at Papyrus and not grab him by the collar, badly wanting to shake some sense into him. 

A shootout he can handle. Learning that Asgore just decimated the Green Needles was also not that big of a deal to the skeleton. He really couldn’t care less about the junkies. But seeing his brother hurt? Nuh-uh, that messes with him. He was beyond pissed.

He tried again. “I said, pull o--!”

“NO.”

The short but firm answer was not something Sans wanted to hear. He grabbed for one end of Papyrus’ scarf to pull at it and threaten him to stop the goddamn car, but before he could say or do what he wanted to, Papyrus interrupted him with an icy glare.

“SANS,” he said calmly, the chilling tone of his voice causing Sans' anger to waver. “YELLING AT YOU HURTS, SO SHUT UP AND LET ME GET US HOME.”

The corners of his jaw and his large sockets twitched and shuddered, his teeth clattering as he clenched them tightly together to contain the swelling outburst burning in his chest. It took him everything to release Papy’s scarf, the red magic flowing out of his left eye socket betraying the amount of anger and worry he was dealing with. 

He gave the falling dust and the damaged flower one last look before he slumped back in his seat and mumbled something inaudible under his breath, pinching the bridge of the nose he didn’t have. “_I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him!_” he suddenly spat out as he punched the car’s dashboard instead to vent some of the rage, the punch causing Papyrus to disapprovingly sigh but he made no remarks. 

This fit is going to last all day, especially when they tell Wingdings about what happened at the Slums. There will be nothing but frustration and anger from here on in, at least until morning. Good times… 

  


* * *

  


“Are you sure there isn’t anything more I can do? I have time.”

Emily stood by the front door of the shop, a hand resting on the doorknob but not yet turning it. She watched as the old florist turned off the lights in the backroom and office, steadily closing up shop for the day.

“No, that’s it for today. We’ve done enough already, it’s time to go home and enjoy the weekend.”

She nodded before she opened the door, hesitating to take her leave. She really wasn’t feeling up for returning home just yet but it seemed she had no choice; she already stalled for as long as she could. She smiled for Mr. Franklin after he joined her outside on the sidewalk and locked the door, the streetlights already on at this time of the evening.

“Until Monday, Mr. Franklin, have a good night,” Emily said before getting a kind response of good night back from him, the poor man walking with a slight limp as he headed on home. She grimaced as she watched him in worry before calling out,” call me if you need anything.”

He smiled and wove a hand in gratitude before he carried on, the two florists parting ways as Emily went in the opposite direction to head for the bus stop.

This didn’t feel right but then it didn’t the day before when they headed home. Mr. Franklin lived on his own after his wife passed away and after the beating he received, she worried he might run into some trouble. He was a good man and took good care of her; she doesn’t want anything more to happen to him, he doesn’t deserve it.

And the whole ‘pretending that nothing happened’ didn’t feel right either. It wasn’t normal, and yet she keeps on a mask to make everyone around her believe all is well and she didn’t get nearly molested by a monster, twice. That she didn’t stumble into an attempted murder scene, and that she wasn’t aware of the mafia business surrounding the flower shop. No, she carried on with her life as if it was all but a bad dream.

What awaited her at home wasn’t a bad dream though… She sighed as she took a seat on the bus shortly after it arrived, dreading the ride. This bus was going to take her to a place she really didn’t want to go. 

What was she going to tell her dad? She was very certain he was still angry over this morning. She knew him well enough to know he can sit on his annoyances for an extremely long time, allowing them to fester and make it all worse until he loses his temper. And he usually loses it rather fast. If it wasn’t a skeleton breathing down her neck, it was her father, ready to ruin her day because he can’t deal with his own problems like a normal human being.

Her thoughts kept going down a dark path even after the bus stopped to let on more passengers, too deep into her mind to notice someone lingering by her seat.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

She looked up from her brooding to gaze at the man standing next to the bench, quickly looking him over with a sideways glance before she looked around the bus. There were plenty of empty seats left. She nodded, however, and shuffled a little closer to the window to make some space, the man politely thanking her.

She returned her attention to the outside world after he sat down next to her, though caught herself looking at his reflection, feeling a little curious. 

He wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; a dark haired man with a slight accent and dressed fairly simple and average. He wore a brown cap, light grey shirt and a black vest, a dark brown coat worn across his shoulders like a cape. It was a very different picture from the expensive suits the skeleton brothers wore. The sling his arm rested in was unusual though and it piqued her interest, making her wonder what happened to it.

“I don’t recall seeing you on this bus before. First time?”

What an odd question to ask, not to mention a strange observation to make. She turned her head and looked at him with arched brows, not certain what to say to him. He was smiling at her, a rather charming smile without it being creepy or foreboding. He simply has an upbeat attitude from what she could tell, a sparkle present in his brown eyes as he sat casually on the bench.

“I don’t usually take the bus this late,” she admitted, noting to herself that she hasn’t seen him before either.

“Late shift at work?”

His sympathy and curiosity were refreshing after dealing with the rudeness and peculiarity of monsters, but it would be a lie to say she felt comfortable with the casual conversation this man tried to strike up with her. “I stayed a little later than usual, yes.”

He smiled a little wider before he said,” let me guess. You are a…” He hummed in thought, looking a little playful as he stroked his chin while staring at her face. “Seamstress.”

A light chuckle left her. A seamstress? What is he thinking? Did he even notice what she is wearing? Not exactly the highest fashion.

“No? Hairdresser then.” 

She chuckled again and shook her head.

“Drats… Nurse? Or wait, no, I got it this time. A waitress!”

“I don’t think so,” she laughed, having become a little bashful throughout his guessing. He seemed genuinely interested and it felt nice… She tucked some of her loose hair behind an ear before she said,” I am a florist. Or, well, assistant florist.”

His face brightened up. 

“A florist? Oh, that’s great, maybe you can help me with something,” he said excitedly and turned a little to her while resting his other arm across the backrest of the bench. “What kind of flowers would you suggest for a first date? Not a date-date, but more of a ‘two people meeting platonically to get to know each other better first’ kind of date.”

“That’s rather specific. Do you go on a lot of these dates?”

He laughed at her cheekiness. “Not exactly, but, you know, a guy has to try somehow when he comes across a miss he’d like to get to know better.”

She smiled at him before giving it some thought. She won’t quickly advise flowers for a first date but every woman is different. “Daisies,” she eventually suggested. “A small bouquet of white daisies and maybe some blue baby’s breath, it’s platonic enough but still a nice gesture. I will say no to red roses, however; too forward, especially if it isn’t a romantic date.”

“Daisies,” he repeated as if mulling it over before he nodded. “I will keep that in mind, thank you.”

They exchanged another smile before he held out his left hand to her.

“I’m William, or Will, if you like.”

She eyed his extended hand, a little taken aback by the introduction. It surprised her that the first thing she thought about wasn’t to take it but that, after exchanging but a few words, this man was proper enough to introduce himself to her. Sans could take a few pointers from this guy…. He still hasn’t told her who he is or asked for her name after feeling her up twice.

Better not ruin this moment by thinking about that bastard.

“Emily,” she said quietly after she lightly took his hand, feeling it was rough from hard labor. For a moment she wondered what he did for a living, once more glancing at the sling he wore before he suddenly stood up.

“My stop is coming up, but for what it’s worth, I hope I’ll get to sit next to you again in the future. It’s been nice talking with you.”

A blush began to form across her cheeks before she quietly uttered and lowered her gaze to not stare,” yeah, me too…” 

What was this then? Finally something good happened after these awful past few days? 

She looked after William as he got off the bus before she lowered her gaze down to the empty spot beside her, still trying to make sense of what she felt. 

A pleasant encounter with a stranger… It felt a little too romantic to be true but she couldn’t help but take some enjoyment from it. Aside from Mr. Franklin and the flower shop, this really was one of the better things to have crossed her path this past year, no matter how short the meeting was and that she may never see this William again. 

Can she allow herself to hope a little?

  


The fear to return home stayed at bay for the remainder of the bus ride and didn’t accompany her after she got off and walked down the street she lived in, her head full with little what if’s which kept her in a good mood. It was unfortunate that it didn’t last.

Her mood dropped after she pushed open the low gate of the picket fence surrounding her home, noticing the lights were on downstairs. It seemed her father was home… She had quietly hoped he wouldn’t be, that she could avoid seeing him tonight but she wasn’t that lucky. Then again, when was she ever that lucky?

Her hands trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, her nerves screaming while all voices of reason were telling her to turn around, step back out and close that door forever to never return.

Where was he? Maybe asleep on the couch? Please let him be asleep on the couch.

He wasn’t, unfortunately. Instead, she found her father in the kitchen, sitting at the table and finishing up a cigarette. He was wearing his uniform, safe from the jacket and cap, his police badge lying on the table next to the shot glass of whiskey. He looked hungover, even at this hour of the evening, but at least he had taken the time to shave.

The gun from this morning was gone, tucked away in one of the holsters strapped around his shoulders, the box of bullets elsewhere. Emily didn’t care to know where. 

“You’re late.”

His strict voice and the disappointed glare he threw her way while she stood in the doorway brought shivers down her spine, not daring to speak up. She tried though, in an attempt to soothe his anger. “It was a busy day at the shop.”

The long drag he took from the cigarette unnerved her as he kept eye contact, seemingly trying to see right through her to find out if she was speaking the truth. He continued to intently leer at her before he exhaled the smoke and said,” dishes need doing.”

She looked over towards the counter and sink to look at the supposed dishes, seeing only two pots, a bowl, a single plate, cutlery, and a few glasses. Nothing which was urgently needed yet he made it sound like those particular dishes needed to be clean right now, maybe even this morning. Probably last week. 

“What would you like for dinner,” she carefully asked after she made her way over to the counter and turned the tap on to appease her father and start with the dishes, not wanting to cross him. She hesitated when she was about to roll up her sleeves, reminding herself of the bruises she needed to hide from him.

The legs of his chair scraped across the floor as he pushed it back and stood up, not answering her as he put out his cigarette. It only took three large steps for him to get behind his daughter and grab for her shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into it as he yanked her around.

The slap that followed resonated through the kitchen.

Emily didn’t get the chance to cover her cheek after he struck her hard with an open hand, the man grasping her hair to tilt her head back and force her to look at him rather than huddle away against the counter.

It wasn’t uncommon. It didn’t happen every day but surely weekly. Him pulling her hair, grabbing her face, slapping her, twisting her arm. Always for different reasons, mostly about something petty or small, and always while he was drunk.

“You have been a downright ungrateful bitch since yesterday, you know that? Not saying hi to daddy when he comes home from a hard day’s work. Not cleaning up the kitchen when you’re supposed to. Waking me up in the morning and ignoring me when I call for you. And now you have the nerve to talk back at me when I tell you you are late?!” he shouted in her face and raised his hand to smack her again when, for some reason, he hesitated.

She hardly dared to open her eyes fully, peeking through welling tears and trembling eyelashes at the livid man who once upon a time raised her and loved her. She flinched when he grabbed her face with the hand he was about the strike her with, holding it tightly and still as he glared at the scab above her right eyebrow.

“What happened?”

The discovery lessened his outburst, his fatherly concern shimmering through but it wasn’t enough. He sounded accusing, as if he blamed her for finding the little cut. As if it was her fault that he didn’t get to finish shouting his list at her.

A good thing she thought of an excuse today. Hopefully he’ll believe it. “I-I lost my grip on a pot, a-at work and i-it--” she stuttered, shaking far too badly while she swallowed down every sob that bubbled up. This man terrified her.

His glare hardened upon hearing her excuse.

“I-I’ll be more careful, please, I am sorry, dad…”

He leaned in closer while tightening his grip on her hair, causing her to wince and shake more furiously. “Daddy,” he corrected her in a calmer tone.

“...D-daddy… I am sorry…”

He inhaled deeply through his nose before he nodded and released her face and hair, planting a peck on her forehead instead. “That’s my good girl.” He turned around to snatch his coat, badge and cap from the table and chair, done with lecturing her. “I want those dishes done before I come back home in the morning,” he said threateningly, hinting at having the night shift this weekend. “No more excuses. And clean up this mess.”

He gestured to the kitchen table before he walked off, having nothing more to say to his daughter. The front door didn’t slam shut but he still closed it hard behind him, aggressively turning the key to lock it before he stomped off to his car.

All that could be heard from the kitchen was the running tap and some shuffling before a few weak sobs broke through and became stronger and louder, the poor woman crying on the floor while holding her aching cheek and chest.


	4. Soul

Why Wingdings’ office is always dark was beyond Sans. Safe from the lit stove in the corner, a desk light was all that was turned on, the windows covered with thick curtains. One of them was blocked by a bookcase, hiding the snowy scenery of Snowdin behind rows of books and dusty scientific equipment.

The office was a mess, an organized mess as Wings liked to call it, with notes and books littering the floor and any available surface. A large clunky desk graced the middle of the space, two padded chairs accompanying it while an old sofa stood in the corner near the stove. Although the eldest Gaster had his own bedroom upstairs, he preferred to sleep on that uncomfortable looking couch whenever he finally managed to tear himself away from his work, or after coffee could no longer keep him awake.

He liked to stay close to his research and far away from interacting with others, the monster completely invested in combining science with magic and experiment with it. His past inventions were many while his friends' circle was little.

Along with a deeply rooted love for science (and crossword puzzles, oddly enough), strategy was Wingdings’ forte. He relished in planning schemes to the smallest detail, to place the right pawns, to manipulate and test, and to watch it all come to fruition. Like a game of chess. He was the brain of the three brothers and, along with his age, it automatically labeled him as the one in charge. Whatever Wingdings says, goes.

And damn, did he have a lot to say after he was told about what happened in the Slums. To say he was angry was an understatement. While Wingdings isn’t prone to shouting, swearing or physically lashing out when he is angry, his silence and calm attitude are incredibly unnerving, his invisible aura dark and threatening.

Just thinking about it made the stout but large skeleton shudder with unease. Even while Wingdings was treating Papyrus’ injury, Sans could sense his displeasure oozing off of him. It was one of the reasons why he lingered by the door, not wanting to come near his vexed brother. Better safe than sorry, no?

Sans stood with his back against the door and a hand stuffed inside a pocket, the other holding the lit cigar clenched between his teeth as he sucked on it. The smoke was the only distraction he had while watching his brothers, the only thing to keep him from acting on his temper which kept swirling around his soul.

He was ready to fuck something up. His brothers, however, weren’t in such a hurry.

Wingdings sat on the edge of his desk and leaned over Papyrus to tend to his injury, the tall skeleton sitting in one of the chairs with his shirt partially undone. His hollow rib cage was showing, his bones thin and giving his whole slender stature a flair of haunting elegance. His red scarf and torn jacket rested next to Wingdings on the desk, dust still staining the black and red fabrics.

Papyrus had taken it upon himself to play the messenger once they returned home after a long drive. He kept denying treatment for his injury throughout the discussions which followed shortly after they met up with Wingdings, probably to keep Wings’ frustration in check with consideration and worry for his younger brother’s wellbeing. It worked well enough; neither Papyrus or Sans felt Wings’ wrath for a job badly done.

Not that it was their fault.

It wasn’t until all information was shared and speculations were made that Papyrus finally gave into Sans’ urgings to patch up the dusting bone, something he left in Dr. W.D. Gaster’s capable hands.

“✋︎❄︎ ✋︎💧︎ ✌︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎💣︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎☠︎☜︎ ⚐︎☞︎ 🕆︎💧︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎💧︎ ☹︎✋︎☞︎☜︎ 💣︎✌︎☝︎✋︎👍︎.”

The silent voice caused Sans to roll his sockets before he mumbled into the room,” ye’re jibberin’, Wings.”

The spindly figure paused in his movements after Sans spoke up, staring with a plain expression at the tape he held between his long fingers before he simply continued wrapping it around Papyrus’ cracked collarbone.

“I said, it’s a shame none of us possesses life magic,” Wings repeated, this time in the common tongue rather than the mysterious language he’d at times speak while deeply focused. “I should have experimented more with it when I had the chance.”

_What if’s won’t heal Papyrus_, Sans bitterly thought as he exhaled the cigar smoke through the corners of his mouth, the smoke tinted red.

Papy’s injury was nothing life-threatening but it still happened. It will take time to heal unless they find a monster capable enough with life magic; a rare find. He wasn’t going to count on it. Just thinking about his little brother’s injury, and that he himself got shot, chipped away at his waning patience, the desire to wring Asgore’s neck and crush his soul to dust burning inside his cranium.

“So what are we gonna do about the Slums?”

“Nothing,” came the simple answer to Sans’ agitated sounding question, an answer he wasn’t happy with.

“Nothin’? Watcha mean _nothin’_?” he angrily asked, his sockets narrowing. “Ye’re just gonna let Dreemurr have that human shithole after what happened to Papy--”

Wingdings sighed before he slowly turned his head to look at Sans, the stern glance he gave him making him swallow down what he wanted to say. Seriously, this might be the only monster in existence holding him under their thumb and it wasn’t something Sans’ ego was very proud of.

“Asgore won this round,” Wings calmly confirmed as he cut the tape and finished up tending to the broken bone. “But that we don’t act now doesn’t mean we won’t do anything. As soon as the dust settles, we’ll keep an eye on the Slums and dig deeper into what Asgore is planning. Infiltration of the Royal mafia will be required and that, little brother, takes a little time to accomplish.”

“And ya expect me to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs, wait like an obedient dog for somethin’ to happen?”

“I thought you liked dogs,” Wings said dryly as he sat up and Papyrus quietly put his shirt back on, the youngest brother wisely keeping out of the conversation. “But yes, that’s exactly what I expect from you. From both of you.”

The last sentence held a warning that made the two skeletons uncomfortable. It didn’t lessen when Wingdings reached around and unpinned the red carnation flower from Papyrus’ jacket, holding it up between two of his long fingers to examine it more closely.

“I know you well enough, Sans, and I know you’ll rope Papyrus into whatever stupid madness you give into when you’re angry. You will stay away from Asgore’s business until I say otherwise. No disobedience. No excuses. And no distractions.” The red flower stained his white fingers when Wingdings slowly crushed it while speaking, bringing his point rather well across. “Now get some rest,” he said and brushed his hands off, the damaged flower discarded to the floor without much care or interest. “We’ll discuss this further at a later time.”

_Fuckin’ bastard._

Sans boldly glared at Wings’ smooth mask-like face, the older brother looking nothing like him or Papyrus, as if he was a different breed of skeleton. No nose cavity or pronounced cheekbones. His exoskeleton was doll-like and smooth like porcelain, safe from the two cracks running down his face. Along with the cracks, a large gaping hole in each of his hands were the only obvious deformations he had, his elongated body hidden within a thick turtleneck sweater and dark grey pants. Still, no matter the differences, he was their brother and that fact kept Sans from wreaking havoc in the office.

He didn’t move until after Papyrus collected his coat and scarf and headed for the door, closely following after him to not linger inside Wingdings’ office after the youngest Gaster took his leave; they were done for the night.

He observed Papyrus closely when his brother carefully rolled his left shoulder while going up the stairs to retreat and rest, noticing his silence and the faint thoughtful grimace he carried after he lingered by his bedroom door. A bothered huff escaped Sans as he watched from the top of the stairs, his lit cigar still clenched between his teeth.

“Listen, Paps. Don’t let Wingdings get to you.”

Papyrus looked a little surprised by Sans consoling him, his frown growing stronger. “HE IS RIGHT, YOU KNOW,” he responded after he opened the door, not yet releasing the door handle. “WE SHOULD LISTEN TO HIM.”

“Not that I am disagreein’ with ya, but he didn’t need to get all dramatic.”

“THAT’S WINGS…” Papyrus would have shrugged if he hadn’t broken his collarbone. Instead, he gave the coat hanging over his arm a soft pat, the thoughtful look remaining across his long face.

“Maybe, still don’t mean he should’ve taken it out on ya.”

Finally it dawned on Papyrus what Sans was hinting at, his one-eyed gaze narrowed as he looked at the torn jacket. “IT WAS JUST A FLOWER, SANS. THE SURFACE HAS PLENTY LEFT.”

The clicking of Sans’ tongue held a hint of annoyance but also concern. It wasn’t just a flower; it was a gift and he knew it did mean something to the tall skeleton, no matter that he pretended otherwise. He was sappy like that. “Right.”

They hesitated in the hallway until Papyrus straightened his spine and cleared his nonexistent throat, no longer looking as thoughtful as before. “I WILL BE MAKING LASAGNA FOR LUNCH TOMORROW AND I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE IN THE KITCHEN, SO YOU BETTER BE HOME AND AWAKE THEN. THERE WILL BE NO SLACKING OFF OR STAYING IN BED ALL DAY.”

_Really? That’s the best change of subject ya could come up with, Papy?_ Sans smirked as he kept his thoughts to himself, saying instead with a shrug,” sure thing, boss. I’ll be there to watch ya do all the work until ya need me to extinguish yer burnin’ bolognese goop.”

He grinned at Papyrus’ loud and overdone groan, detecting a hint of a smile through the pretend. Good. Now he can rest easier…

Darkness greeted him after he wished Papyrus a good night and entered his own room, the snow gathered on the windowsills outside giving the room a sense of emptiness. He knew it was cold in his room but it didn’t bother him in the slightest; it was normal. Warmth, however… Some warmth would be really nice right now. Not because he needed it but because he wanted it.

He put out his cigar, loosened his tie and shrugged off his vest after he sat down on the edge of his bed, soon inspecting the bullet hole. The bullet tore right through him and three layers of clothing, his black shirt and red pinstripe vest showing the proof of it. He once more stuck a finger through the circular rip in the vest, sighing deeply at it.

This sucked. This day was nothing but a drag with no outlets and it made everything unpleasant, including himself.

Actually… That wasn’t true; not everything about this day was awful.

He rose a brow plate while flexing his bony finger, reminding himself of this morning and his second meeting with the little florist.

The warmth he wanted… it was out there. Up for grabs. He should finish what he started earlier, shouldn’t he? It’s only fair, no? Though, right now and after the whole Slums business…? Yeah, why the fuck not. It is a good a time as any to pay the flower girl a visit. Today, tomorrow, next week; he’s certain her reaction will be the same no matter when.

He pulled his undone tie away from around his neck before standing up, leaving his damaged vest on the bed.

Teleporting all the way to Edge City… It’s far from Snowdin and the entrance to the Underground but he should be able to make it. He can’t exactly leave through the front door and take the car, not after the damage the vehicle took and all the lectures he had to endure the past few hours. Nah, he’ll rely on his magic to pay the little lady a visit, see if she’s home.

_No distractions._

Sans scowled when Wingdings’s words pushed forward. _Well, fuck ya, Wings._

Wisps of red magic crept from his left socket as he thought of where he wanted to go, the silence of his room making way for the dampened sounds of the city, the walls of his home gone once the smoke evaporated. The light from the streetlamps lined along the long street shone against his back, the rickety picket fence sealing him into the garden of the Baxter’s home. Instead of snow, a light rain drizzled down on him, quietly pitter-pattering against the soil, the top of his round skull and his broad shoulders.

The lights were on downstairs.

He hummed thoughtfully before he brought himself inside, soon appearing on the stairway landing of the small house. He quickly made certain nobody was there before he listened, hearing various sounds coming from downstairs. No voices, just some rummaging from what he guessed was the kitchen.

_Alright, ya creep_, he thought to himself as he looked down the hall, _don’t mess this one up._

Oh, he knew what he was doing was wrong but he honestly didn’t care. This was his reward for surviving the earlier shootout, and perhaps some payback for getting smacked and what not with flowers, knives, and baby spades. Besides, this being wrong is what made it interesting.

Sans walked carefully, the floorboards underneath the carpet and rugs creaking ever so slightly under his weight. He’ll need to mind his step if he doesn’t want to give himself away.

He peeked into the first room down the hall, right across the top of the stairs, the door standing wide open. It was a messy room that smelled of booze, cigarettes and cologne, the king-size bed unmade. Must be the father’s room, he wildly guessed as he stood in the doorway before carrying on.

Framed pictures hung on the wall he passed, family photos from what he gathered. Bride and groom. Baby. Toddler. Happiness. A picnic. Christmas. He lingered to look more closely at one of the pictures, taking in the faces of the three humans smiling at the camera. Well, isn’t that just a perfect little image of a happy family.

She looks like her mother.

Another hum left him after he took in the similarities between the two women in the photo, quietly wondering where the mother was if the flower girl lives alone with her father. Elsewhere with a new lover? Dead perhaps? Death seemed most likely as these pictures were still up on the wall.

There were two doors left at the end of the hall after Sans took his attention away from the photo, the one standing slightly ajar calling for him. He slowly pushed it further open, the dim light from the hallway pouring into the room. A single person bed was the first piece of furniture to catch the light, the bed empty but neatly made.

He wandered inside with cautious and careful steps, allowing more light to fall into the room so he could explore further. The gentle sound of raindrops hitting the window welcomed him inside, the room faintly smelling like sweet perfume, far less strong than the scents in the other bedroom. Potted plants hung in front of the single window and flowers decorated the sill and desk in simple vases, the three shelves hanging above the small desk filled with books about the Surface’s flora.

He couldn’t help but smirk. This was her room alright. Kind of hard to miss or guess wrong with all the flowers. He figured she liked them with her working at Eddie’s but he didn’t think she liked flowers this much.

His spine stiffened when a noise from outside the room made him realize the rummaging downstairs had grown silent during his little venture, hearing someone slowly coming up the stairs.

Emily held her forehead after she turned off all the lights downstairs, easily finding her way around in the dark house. She did everything her father had asked of her, including a little more. The kitchen was clean, the floor mopped and the dishes done, all washed and dried off. Hopefully he won’t find any faults once he comes back home from work.

_Ugh, God…_

Emily grimaced and scrunched her nose when she picked up on the faint smell of cigar stained cherries after she arrived upstairs, knowing it didn’t come from her father’s bedroom. Did that skeleton’s smell get in her clothes? Wonderful… She sighed deeply as she made her way into the bathroom, blinking her eyes against the bright light after she turned it on, the small tiled space soon filled with the sound of a running tap.

She can’t wait to crawl into bed, sleep and forget today happened. She was so tired and hurt… Not physically hurt as it was her heart which ached the most, though her cheek was still a little sore.

She raised her head to look in the mirror after she splashed her face with water, carefully touching the side of her face where her father had struck her. She’s oddly thankful for getting hurt the other day. If he hadn’t noticed the scab during his outburst, the beating might have been worse. The story of her life…

_Yeah, thanks Sans_, she sarcastically thought after she left the bathroom and crossed the hall to disappear into her own room, locking the door behind her to not have her father barge in during the morning. _Thanks for being a lesser asshole than my dad and for preventing him from using his belt on me by molesting me. Very considerate of you._

She grumbled and turned on the small desk lamp to not stand in complete darkness, undoing her shoes and dropping them nonchalantly on the floor. She’s so done with today. And the terrible truth is that she won’t fall asleep any time soon. She’ll be miserable and alone for hours.

_Great._

Her teeth pressed into her lower lip as she bit back the stinging of tears behind her eyes, telling herself she already cried enough. She has to be strong for herself or else she’ll go mad. This is just another day she survived, another step closer to a better future.

_If only mom was still here..._

She pulled her dress over her head before hanging it over her chair, telling herself she’ll have to wash it tomorrow to get rid of the cigar smell. She doesn’t want her dad to get any wild ideas if he was to smell it. Heh, would he even notice it with the whiskey he drowns himself in? Though, it was strange that she didn’t smell it the whole day until she went upstairs. Was her mind playing tricks on her?

Her light green slip was pulled up halfway up her waist when it dawned on her that something felt off. She paused in undressing to try and figure out what was making her uneasy, not exactly able to place a finger on it. Something was different in her room. Something was _there_.

The turning of her gaze was hesitant with a deeply rooted fear that she’ll find something, her differently colored eyes wandering into the darkness the light of her small desk lamp couldn’t reach. There was nothing or nobody by the window, neither by the walk-in closet. Perhaps it was her imagination?

Her throat tightened when she noticed a red dot gleaming in the darkness, there where an armchair stood in the corner, a cozy spot she liked to read in. Someone large was sitting in the comfy chair and she could already guess who it was, the shine of gold betraying a wide evil grin.

“Don’t stop on my account,” sounded the deep taunting voice from the dark, the menacing red glow disappearing for but a moment as if she was winked at.

All color drained from her face as she stared wide-eyed at the shrouded monster, unable to make any sense of it.

This can’t be happening. No, this can’t be real. Not in her home. Not here. Not tonight. Not ever.

“H-how…?” How did this creep find her? And why? Why was he here, of all places? This must be a bad dream. It has to be, life _can’t_ be this cruel. Either her dad knocked her out or she fell asleep after she cried on the kitchen floor; those were the only logical explanations as to why this was happening.

The skeleton shrugged after he steepled his fingers, his overconfidence shining through. “Let’s say I had a very bad day and I figured I’d come and look for some sympathy. Sounds fair, no?”

_Sympathy?_

Is this guy for real? After what he did? After what her father did? After the whole world chewed her up and spat her out like she’s some common whore, she gets this fucking skeleton knocking on her door for some freaking sympathy he does not deserve?! Fuck, life _is_ cruel.

Sans noticed the hardening of her face and the balling of her hands, tutting. “Ye’re not gonna throw more stuff at me, are ya? I mean, don’t think tossin’ a book or two will do ya much good.” He laughed under his breath, far too amused by the mental image of her emptying her shelves to throw books at him. As useless of an attempt to be rid of him as with the flowers this morning. Still funny, though.

His laughter stopped when she bared her teeth and dove at him with a clawed hand and a raised fist, her loud voice bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. _“Get the hell out of my house!”_

“Easy there,” he said with a forced chuckle to hide his surprise at her suddenly acting rather than stand there and ask more questions about the how’s and why’s. Where did this fire suddenly come from, though? He only slightly rose a hand towards her before she suddenly froze mid-run, not taking another step while her arms dropped and her hands clutched her chest.

The crushing pressure from before; it’s back. His magic…

She saw the red glowing outline around his skeletal fingers and the strong glow in his left eye socket when she desperately looked at him, unable to move like she wanted to. She could still speak, even though her fear nearby robbed her of her voice. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice shook. “Why me, of all people?”

Sans shifted in the chair as he observed her closely. She wasn’t screaming for help, nor calling for her father. It seemed she was home alone after all. Good, that meant he could push this a little further.

“I’ve been wonderin’ that too,” he admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, ye’re a good lookin’ dame, bit exotic, but ye’re not particularly special for a human. Yer soul, however…”

She wheezed and buckled when a heavy thump went through her chest after the skeleton beckoned by curling a finger, the look upon his shadowed skull ominous and eager. All of his senses were focused on her chest, she could feel them burning on her while something pushed against her chest bone from the inside. The sensation of an invisible elastic band tightening within her chest and pulling on her whole being didn’t hurt but it scared her, the feeling unnatural. He was pulling something out of her rib cage, a part of her, and while she knew deep down what it was, she had a hard time believing it.

The tightening sensation suddenly snapped as the invisible force phased through her chest and took her breath away, light seeping through the front of her gown. It took shape once it hovered in front of her heaving chest, the orb shifting in color before it materialized into a blue heart. As soon as it took shape, a set of red chains wrapped around the glowing heart, encasing it like vicious snakes and locking it in their greedy embrace.

Emily stared at the glowing anomalies, feeling vulnerable and exposed while frightened to the core.

Was that… her soul? It wasn’t her heart, no matter the shape of it, her heart beating furiously in her chest. It must be her soul, what else could it be? How was he able to remove it? She wanted to grab it and push it back inside of her, still feeling connected to it with an invisible link that felt frail. Unfortunately, she still couldn’t move, the chains a sign of his constrictive magic.

“Ya look like ye’ve never seen yer own soul before.” Sans’ intrigued sounding voice made her tear her large eyes away from the chained soul to look at the skeleton sitting in the dark, the rain softly hitting the window and her shaky breathing the only sounds present in the room.

Her silence was an answer in itself.

Rather ironic… Souls were the very reason behind the war between monsters and humans, and why the monsters were locked away in the Underground by the barrier. Humans feared they were after their souls to gain power and now look. They don’t even remember or care, ignorant of what they possess.

It is what makes them different from each other; monsters_ are_ their soul, it’s what they are made of, and, while that makes it sound like their soul is stronger than a human’s, it was all but that. A monster’s soul is weak. It doesn’t persist after death and it’s one of the reasons why a monster turns to dust when they die. Humans didn’t depend on their soul for survival, neither were they made of it. Perhaps it was why they no longer controlled magic.

He let her admire her soul, the woman mesmerized and perplexed even though she was shaking like a leaf. Did she even know she had this inside of her since birth? That her personality and past actions and decisions turned it dark blue? The faint twinkle in her eyes hinted at her unawareness and the raw nature of discovering a part of herself she didn’t know actually existed, all thanks to him. It was a humbling thought, even for someone like Sans.

The chains remained in place, however, no matter how touching this moment was. Sans kept the human soul in his magical grasp as he sat more comfortably in the large chair and patted his leg, the grin he shot her all but inviting. “Why don't ya come over here for a spell and figure out with me why a human like you has caught my attention.”

She did not like that suggestion. The mixed expression of fear and child-like wonder turned offended before it became ice-cold, her brown and blue eyes piercing into him like daggers.

“How about you figure it out somewhere else?”

The skeleton snerked at her defiance. Does she not realize the position she is in? Very well then. “Just c’mere,” he smirked with a shake of his head, sounding unimpressed by her attempt to keep up a strong act. He beckoned her over with a flick of his wrist, the red chains clamping around the heart-shaped soul and causing her to flinch. He literally swept her off her feet with that single motion, his red-colored magic yanking at her soul and forcing her whole body forward.

He caught her as she tripped into him with a fluster and an objecting cry, the large skeleton easily lifting her into his lap with two greedy hands and a cruel chuckle. He looked quite proud of himself as he grinned at her, his bones hard as he lacked the natural fleshy padding a human possesses.

“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” he asked, unable to stop himself from running a hand up her slender waist while the other crept up her back to hold her in place. He could feel her warmth through the thin layer of the gown she wore, the warmth that had lured him into her home.

She struggled, as he expected. He felt her soul writhe in his grasp to escape his magical bindings, the dark blue glow flickering. He did like her feistiness, he relished in the failure she endured and the fact she could do nothing about it. She was his prey and he was the cat toying with the mouse; uneven odds, but he liked them.

That glare, though. So foul. So desperate. So…

He frowned after he defiantly grinned back at her, noticing something about her which made his enjoyment waver with hesitation.

Her captivating eyes… They were red, yet her cheeks were dry.

His grin lost its sharp edge when the wonder she had been crying beforehand crossed his mind, feeling her tremble in his lap. If she had, it might explain why she is more fired up than before… She must have had a bad day too, and, like the jackass he is, he wasn’t making it any better, was he? No wonder she hates him so much.

He pushed his curiosity for the reason behind her tears back with a small sigh before he dismissed the magic surrounding her soul, freeing her from the restricting magic. While he revels in her fear and gets a kick out of seeing and tasting her futile attempts to rebuke him, he doesn’t want to make her miserable. Not like this, not after exposing her soul.

He’ll make her feel better instead.

She gasped when she regained control over her limbs after the chains dissolved, looking bewildered at her hands before she gazed at Sans in confusion, uncertainty swirling in her large eyes.

Her confusion didn’t last for long, her wide-eyed gaze turning to her soul that remained exposed. She stared at the floating blue heart as the pieces slowly fell into place and she understood what had happened, determination flashing across her face while one thought screamed through her head; get herself away from him. She lunged for her soul to reclaim it but he was faster, her intentions too predictable for someone like him.

His large skeletal hand clenched around the soul before she could grab it, the heart fitting easily into the palm of his hand. His hold tightened ever so slightly and squeezed the soul, causing Emily’s whole body to jerk with an accompanying and confused sounding groan, her hands digging into the armrests of the chair to keep herself up.

“Why such a hurry?” he asked as he leaned in and brought his face close to hers, her trembling bangs brushing against his round cheekbones as he nudged his forehead against hers to make eye contact. “Don’t worry, as long as ya let me do this, nothing bad will happen.”

Her soul… It wasn’t a ghost-like reflection like she thought it to be; it was physical in his grasp, solid but soft and slightly translucent, like a mix of jelly and colored glass. She was still connected to it, feeling everything that happened to it.

He stroked the soul’s center with his thumb, the gentle gesture making her shudder heavily as something unexplainable happened with that slight touch. It was as if his hand was inside of her body, caressing her from within. It felt wrong, too intimate, too violating. It made her sick and yet she liked it? _No._ No, this was wrong.

“What are you--?”

“Makin’ ya feel good,” he shushed and showed her her soul before he stroked it again, sending ripples of what could best be described as phantom pleasure through her whole being. His grin couldn’t get any wider as her body recoiled, though it dropped a little when she grabbed for his wrist while she shook in his lap.

“S-stop.”

“There’s no stoppin’ now,” he said with a lowered voice, his grip on her soul slowly clenching like a warning. This was the first-ever human soul he had drawn forth and touched like this; he wasn’t going to give it up so easily, not when she was this close to him. Besides, he did say he was going to make her feel good so she better let him.

His thumb pushed firmly into the soul’s center as he intently watched her, the roughness bringing forth a different reaction from the young woman. What he did was unpleasant and it showed, the pain he caused her making her tense up with a surprised wince, her nails scratching across his bone and sleeve. She hunched forward and gasped for air when he removed his thumb, her hand still wrapped around his thick wrist though she was no longer trying to stop him, taken aback by what he did.

His other hand wandered further up her back until it rested against the back of her neck, the skeleton leaning over her to whisper in her ear as he pulled her closer. “Just give in and enjoy.” He returned to caressing her soul, gentle this time, and watched her with great interest, the whimpering cry she let out hitting the right spot.

Her life was literally in his hands, the thought prodding his confidence. He knew full well she was scared but he was certain it won’t be long until she gives up on resisting and struggling. She’ll come to like it. She already was, he could feel and hear it, she just didn’t want to admit it yet. That’s alright. He’ll break her and make her moan for more soon enough.

There was nobody around to interrupt them, to hear her sounds of denial and dismay. She was his for as long as he wanted it. Finally…

He didn’t expect this to happen when he decided on coming here. He thought it would play out differently. Not that he was complaining about not screwing her brains out right now. Molesting her soul was just as enjoyable, if not even more so.

He had a good view with her in his lap, hearing her every whimper and gasp, and feeling every little pant, huff, and quiver of withheld pleasure. She kept her distance from him the best she could, her left hand glued on the armrest she used as her support to stay up. Her other hand was no longer holding his wrist, instead pressing against her chest while she was trying to make sense of what she was experiencing.

This was different from sex. More intimate and personal, but far from natural. Not to mention, the sensation was continuous as long as he touched her soul, every caress, stroke and flick battering her with waves of unwanted bliss. There wasn’t a spare moment to collect her senses and get a hold on herself. She wanted to hate this but after everything she went through, this was the best she has felt in a long time. The only problem is that the wrong person was making her feel this way.

She looked at Sans through half-open eyes and from under her eyebrows as she thought about him, meeting his intrigued gaze. A faint dusty pink color was present across his cheekbones, his grin not as mean or cruel as it usually was. This might be the gentlest she has seen him, even if he wasn’t exactly gentle with her. Was this turning him on? She bet it did. And the shameful truth was that she too started to get aroused by what he was doing to her.

_Damn it._

A silent moan escaped her after she hung her head and shook it, refusing to accept it. This spiritual soul whatever bullshit is wrong, no matter how it makes her feel.

She retracted into her shoulders when she caught sight of her soul held between the thick skeletal fingers, the dark blue glow reflecting in her glazed over eyes. The massaging of her soul continued to make her shudder, her mind steadily becoming hazy with the overload of good versus bad. Desire started to take the upper hand and it scared her.

Her soul looked like it was melting in his hand yet it didn’t drip, retaining its shape. It reflected how he made her feel, how soft and wet she was becoming. Somewhere deep down it remained disgusting but she couldn’t fight it any longer, the want to feel good for once taking over. She wants to forget about the abuse she puts up with on a daily basis. If it’s thanks to this monster, then so be it. Let’s just hope he won’t be an asshole about it…

The woman’s soft whimpers and breaths steadily increased in volume the more she shed off the denial, her soul slippery in his hand. Her sweat. Her building heat. He was enthralled by it all. Her bare legs clamped around his, her inner thighs pressing firmly against his pants-clad femurs, every shiver vibrating through his bones. It made his ecto and soul stir.

No words could describe how hot this was, the skeleton in awe at what he managed to awaken inside of her. He was loving this; he loved how her soul felt in his possession, how he made her yearn for more without even violating her body.

Perhaps it was why she caught him off guard when she suddenly leaned forward and pressed herself against his broad chest with sultry pants, her fingers grasping for his black shirt after burying her face away. Her deep but fast breaths heated up his ribs and the soul hidden within, the trembling of her body even more obvious than before.

Shit… This was rather cute in a weird twisted way, not to mention surprising.

He stared perplexed at her, taken aback by how sudden this became more intimate. She was doing this willingly… She wasn’t trying to push him away or tell him to fuck off; she surrendered. She was openly enjoying how he treated her and her soul, her moans, warmth, and blush hitting him hard in all the right places. He knew he could break her, he just didn’t expect it would be like this. She was close enough for him to feel the beating of her heart, the rhythmic vibrations something he didn’t have and will never experience. All he had was his soul and it was craving for more than just her warmth and the sounds she made.

It wants her everything.

It didn’t take long for him to contemplate on what to do, his thoughtful caressing of her soul coming to an end after he made a decision. He took a deep breath when she slacked in his lap after the mindblowing sensation ebbed away, granting her some respite and a chance to catch her breath. Her moans were subtle, sweet little sounds that kept his doubts at bay when he reached into himself and summoned forth his inner self for her to see.

It flickered into existence, a white upside-down heart that glowed a deep red and was larger than the shiny blue soul floating above his open hand. An expression of discomfort flashed across his rough features as he looked upon his exposed soul before conjuring a smug-looking grin, the edges of it giving away it was forced to keep up appearances. Not that she noticed.

Her panting nor blushing lessened when she stared at the soul he presented, her muscles tense as if she was focusing everything on that peculiar-looking soul, her chest heaving against him. She seemed enthralled by it, perhaps wondering as to why he was showing it or why it was different from hers.

How long had it been since last someone saw his soul? Not that he can think straight enough to remember… He was too distracted by her reaction anyway, liking how she looked at his soul with subdued awe and wonder.

She didn’t shy away from it, her different colored eyes watching the souls float beside each other. Her fingers gripped his shirt tighter as she made herself smaller against his large body, still reeling from what he had done with her soul. She shifted in mild surprise when one of her fingers unintentionally hooked behind a tear present in the black fabric, quickly looking at it. The white of a rib showed through the hole the bullet had created, her fingers timidly inspecting it.

“Told ya I had a very bad day,” he weakly smirked, his voice startling her.

Her breathing remained heavy as she looked up to him, her eyebrows knitted together in a thoughtful frown and her eyes slightly squinted with concern. She didn’t avert her gaze until he smirked once more with a shrugging of his shoulders, her fingertips trailing the edge of the frayed cloth as she returned to watching the upside-down soul.

_What would it be like to be touched by a human_, he wondered, _by her_? Sans was no fool; he won’t let her or any human touch his soul, he wasn’t going to risk it, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Can a human soul and a monster soul even connect, or was it simply taboo that made it seem impossible?

Confused tension crept up his spine as Emily’s hands wandered upward to his shoulders, her small body sitting up in his lap as if they followed the guidance of her hands. Her fingers interlocked at the back of his neck, her soft breasts pressing against his ribcage with nothing but her gown and his shirt in between. Her face came dangerously close to his and, for a split second, he wondered what she was doing until her pursed lips brushed against his clenched teeth and she leaned more of her weight against him.

Oh shit… _Oh shit_. This was getting a little _too_ real.

His soul thumped at the pang of panic he felt, his cool slipping.

He didn’t account for this… He came here to play around with the human, to get something good out of a shitty day, to satisfy his twisted needs, to get a rise out of her. Why was he finding himself meek instead? Why was he surprised by her showing the sympathy he jokingly said he was looking for? He was completely flustered after exposing his soul to her.

This wasn’t like him at all.

A strange conflicted sounding chuckle bubbled up from the back of his non-existent throat as his grin grew wider and sharper, his denial making him frustrated. Was he growing soft for a human? No, fuck that. He’s better than that. He wrapped his arms around her and held the back of her head to answer the kiss she gave him, deepening it with hunger to vent his frustration and prove to himself he was still in control.

Fine. He’ll do it. Screw the taboo and unspoken rules. Screw whatever the consequences will be. He can do whatever he wants and touching her soul with his own was exactly that.

He brought their souls closer to them before he slowly closed his hand, the magic he possessed pressing the souls against one and another. The slightest touch sent a vibration through him that felt electrifying, and it seems she felt it too as she flinched against him and broke the passionate kiss to audibly shiver.

Her embrace became firmer, tighter, and shakier while the red glowing soul pushed against hers. Her hot breaths against his teeth and chin became more ragged and deeper when blue mixed with red. Her hands clawed desperately across his back and skull as the two souls merged and intertwined, the shuddering of her body uncontrollably while her moaning cries rose in volume and rang through the room.

What she experienced, he felt too and it was indescribable.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her behind as he held her tight and panted and groaned like a beast the further their souls intertwined and melded together. He sloppily kissed her with his formed tongue as his hands wandered all over her body, squeezing and groping her, her gown almost undone from the greed. There was too much passion to contain and express, the burning hot feelings overflowing for both human and monster.

This went beyond him. He never felt this before, it was on a completely different level than anything he experienced before. Any monster or human he laid with… this was nothing compared to that. This had a far deeper meaning. A void was filled by the blue soul that nearly fit perfectly inside his, a void he didn’t even know he had. This whole experience… _Everything_. It was too much. Too fucking much.

It took all the resolve and little bit of sense he had left to separate their souls and bring an end to the overwhelming sensation which numbed them, the differently shaped hearts returning to where they belonged. She slumped in his arms the moment the link was severed, out of breath and dazed.

Sans grimaced as he held her. This didn’t feel right… A melancholic feeling lingered in his chest after he retrieved his soul, making him uneasy; it felt broken.

He rested his skull on top of her silver-blonde hair, still trying to catch his breath. He looked troubled while staring absentmindedly into the dark room, not hearing the rain hitting the window close by them. All he heard were her soft breaths, his own huffing and the painful doubt scratching the inside of his cranium.

He went too far. Bit off more than he could chew. He came here to have some fun with the human, nothing more. It would have been so much easier to deal with this if he had just fucked her in this chair, but no… Like the idiot he is, he didn’t do that. Instead, he foolishly connected with her in a way he didn’t even know was possible, and it terrified him. How was he going to move past this…?

He lay his head back to look up to the ceiling as if it held the answer, his hands continuing to hold the woman who stayed in his lap and rested against his broad chest. She was so warm… Fuck.

_A little break_, he told himself sternly as his sockets began to lull and exhaustion prodded him in the back. He’ll take a little break to let this settle before he’ll do what he came here for. Just a few minutes and he’ll make her moan in different ways. Make himself forget about what just happened so he can continue to be ignorant about how he feels about this human and her soul.

Just a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, over a 100 kudos and 1000 hits before chapter 4 even hit... That's amazing, thank you all so much!! <3


	5. Afterglow

Agh, his neck…

Sans grimaced as he rolled his head and shoulders with a quiet cracking when a whiny soreness penetrated through his daze, at first not wanting to open his eyes but his sockets slowly blinked open with the rising questions. Why is his neck so stiff and why isn’t he laying on his back? Did he fall asleep on the couch again? He felt drowsy… and warm? That’s not right. 

Wait.

He stopped himself from stretching and rubbing his stiff neck when he realized where he was and why he felt warm, the weight present in his lap and against his chest alerting him. His eye lights snapped down to look at the woman resting against him, his whole skeletal body tensing up at the sight of her. There wasn’t a shred of drowsiness left when the realizations hit him; the flower girl. Her chair. Her room. Edge City. The Surface. 

He fell asleep, didn’t he? _Shit_. 

He groaned at his own stupidity when every puzzle piece fell harshly into place, not daring to move. So much for a few minutes… How much time had passed? He looked into the room which wasn’t his and then to the window, the darkness within the room and the outside world not as strong as before. 

Dawn. 

Damn it, he should have left hours ago. Was he that exhausted from melding his soul with hers? Apparently, and it seems he wasn’t the only one. He looked back down at the human, the woman soundly asleep as she lay curled up against him. 

This felt incredibly wrong. Why is she still in his lap? Does she even know? She must have dozed off too, drained from what he did to her soul and the heated passion and intimacy they drowned in. At least he made her feel a bit better, no matter his methods. Still, his initial plan had fallen to shambles and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He lost control over the situation and one thing he hates with a passion is to not be in control.

She’ll be livid when she wakes, won’t she? Maybe threaten him with something stupid again, forgetting, ignoring and denying the intimate moment they shared. Typical…

A gruff sigh left him as he tried to predict her reactions if he accidentally wakes her, not expecting her to be dreamy-eyed and loving towards him, not after how he treated her before the whole soul business. She hates him too much. Or, well, she didn’t exactly hate him a few hours ago, not while she was moaning against his teeth and tongue.

Damn, that was so good. And hot. Sexy.

A meek smirk flashed across his face with the flush which accompanied the fresh memory, though the grin grew stale when the little voice in his head reminded him about his current situation; he still needs to get out of here and, while he is no coward, he rather not wake her. His head was a mess and if the moment they had together threw him off this badly, who knows what it did to her. He rather not find out, not here and at this early hour. He was too tired and grouchy for an argument or a hissyfit.

Still, how will he get home? Does he have enough magic left for a trip back to Snowdin? And what about her? How is he going to leave without waking her up? He can’t, can he? 

_Well, if she wakes, she wakes_, he told himself as he examined her, taking in her features and warmth before glancing towards the small bed. He pushed back the thought that they could have been together in that bed if he hadn’t fallen asleep, content in many different ways. Maybe. He would be, that’s one thing he was certain of.

Right, let’s see how stealthy and careful he can be after an uncomfortable nap and with a ticking time bomb in his lap. 

He slipped an arm under Emily’s legs while the other arm stayed across her back, the skeleton swiftly pushing himself up from the armchair while cupping the woman in his arms without jostling her too much. He swayed. Damn it, the whole mind blowing experience made his bones shaky; he has yet to fully recover from it. At least he can keep himself up well enough… Hopefully his magic won’t be as finicky.

He tried not to move her too much as he crossed the room, surprised she remained asleep in his arms while he carried her to her bed. Soul sex must be one hell of a drug for a human. Let's hope it didn’t cause any lasting side effects. He had no idea about any of it, it was as much of a gamble to him as it may have been to her.

She murmured something inaudible after he bent forward to lay her down, pausing for a moment to make certain she wasn’t waking up before he lay her on top of the quilt. He was somewhat uncertain as to why he was treating her like this, why he cared enough for her to be comfortable. He sure wasn’t comfortable, but he will be once he gets home and leaves this far behind him; he doesn’t want to stick another finger into this jumbled mess of emotions and confusing thoughts. 

Thinking about it and having the woman this close to him made him angry, though mostly at himself. He should have just teleported while they were still in the chair and spare himself this trouble… Well, too late now. Shit, he really is a mess.

Her hair was still tied up. 

Sans frowned at the strange observation before he allowed his gaze to wander over her body, the light green slip she wore still in place. It did show more of her pale skin and her long legs than when she sat in his lap, including her shoulders and a hint of her breasts. A rather perfect picture. How he would love to nibble on her throat and fondle her… Hear her moan some more. Those moans were something alright.

_Stop fuckin’ teasin’ yerself, idiot._

He clenched his sockets shut before rubbing a hand across his face and turning away from the bed, grumbling. He shouldn’t have touched her soul with his… Everything has become overly complicated thanks to him getting soft for this human; it pisses him off. He best leave before his stupidity grows any further.

“Sans…?”

_Oh shit._

The saying of his name sent shivers down his spine and made his soul twinge, surprise tainting the startle and panic which overtook him. It sounded so sweetly, it caught him completely off guard. He didn’t even know she knew his name… 

He couldn’t stop himself from looking back from the corner of his socket, catching a glimpse of a sleep drunken Emily who hazily looked at him with a hint of confusion, her eyes almost closed. She shifted on the bed to prop herself up on her side and an elbow, the thin cloth of her short gown unintentionally sliding and rippling enough to grant him more glimpses of her skin and curves. 

If he had a throat, it would have clenched shut at the sight and the carnal desires which surged through his bones. A bead of red-tinted sweat crawled down the side of his skull as he stared with round sockets at the woman before he forcefully averted his gaze, firmly telling himself it was time to go. He fucked up enough already.

He was suddenly gone after a tuft of smoke swirled from his left eye socket, leaving the woman alone in her room without a single goodbye or taunting remark.

  


_Did… did he just leave?_

Emily pushed herself up after the large shape of the skeleton disappeared and the atmosphere in the room grew lighter with it, her large eyes shooting around to catch a glimpse of the mobster while her fingers dug into the thick quilt. 

“Sans?”

No answer. He was really gone… But how, and why? Did he--_Oh God_.

Fear tightly gripped her when speculation drove through her like a wooden stake. She quickly patted her chest in search of something after the haunting feeling washed over her, though she calmed down when there was no sign of a blue glowing heart wrapped in red chains. Her soul was back where it belonged, or so she assumed. It was there and it felt sore and tender, just like her whole body, and her head… so heavy.

Had she fallen asleep? What happened while she was out? Did he… do anything? 

She looked at herself, taking in her arms and legs and what she wore, not finding anything out of place; no fresh bruising, no torn clothes, no undone or missing underclothing. It seems he didn’t do anything devious to her and neither had he harmed her. What on earth, that doesn’t make any sense… 

Wait, what time is it? 

She instinctively looked at the alarm clock standing on the nightstand, the small arm pointing at six. Early in the morning. Was she really out for almost seven hours? And he did nothing to her during that time? He just… tucked her in and ran off? 

_What the hell, Sans? What kind of game are you playing now?_

She frowned as she thought about his sudden departure, recalling the look on his face when he glanced back over a shoulder. He wasn’t grinning. He usually grins, be it evilly or cocky or tauntingly, so why wasn’t he grinning? Why did that scare her?

She shook her head after she huddled into her shoulders and cupped her face, uncertain what to make of it all. She felt oddly warm inside, her heart buzzing with a sense of serenity. It felt out of place. How could a monster like him, who treated her awfully, make her feel wanted and free? He made her forget the cruel world and her terrible life, even if it was for but a moment. 

What did he even do to her soul? Was it a monster thing or some kind of magic? Did he know what he was doing? It felt so… so… 

She blushed at the thought which crossed her mind, not wanting to admit it mentally but there was no stopping her physical reactions, the blush spreading to her ears. 

It felt pleasant, that was the truth of it. So different from anything else she experienced before. And he was the one who made her feel that way, him of all people and monsters. She could hardly believe it. 

He said he wanted to make her feel good, and he did, but did he also mean it or was there an underlying intention she wasn’t aware of? Perhaps it was a ruse to lure her into a false sense of security, but… would he risk his own soul for that? And… well… he seemed to enjoy it as much as she did, so perhaps he was speaking the truth. 

She smiled a little at the thought.

Reality was cold, however. Chilling to the bone, even. Even if Sans gave her some respite from abuse and violence, he left her without closure or an explanation. 

_He used me again, didn’t he_, came the dark thought. Had his fun and then dropped her, just like before. This truly was all she was good for, wasn’t it? Being a man’s throwaway entertainment. Aside from a rare few, the men in her life were nothing but greedy and filthy pigs and she was growing too used to it. It shouldn’t be that way but that’s how it was… And it won’t be over until she manages to escape this city. 

Hopefully that will happen before she loses her mind or before there’s nothing left of her.

She lowered her gaze down to her chest as her hands slipped down to her shoulders, hugging herself while carefully recalling last night, letting the sounds, images, feelings and smells replay in her head. That skeletal bastard did her wrong, so very wrong on many different levels, she could only agree to it… So why does she feel fuzzy and disappointed instead of being angry at that bastard?

  


* * *

  


Sans' broad back hit the side of the wardrobe after he appeared inside his room, his shoes and the legs of his black dress pants soggy from the cold snow outside. 

He found out the hard way that the little rest he gained during the uncomfortable nap wasn’t enough to restore his magic, his attempt to teleport into his room unsuccessful at first. He ended up outside of Snowdin the first time with snow reaching up to his shins, a chilling and unwelcome surprise. The second time ended with him appearing in the backyard of his home where he nearly slipped on ice, again not a pleasant surprise. Luckily, third time’s the charm, although the landing could have been better.

He pushed himself up from the floor after he sunk to a sitting against the tall closet with the somewhat successful and final teleport, exhausted from the trip and the eventful night. He usually doesn’t exert himself this much, as lazy as he is. He wondered if it was worth it. If _she_ was worth it.

So far…? Yes and no.

Taking off his shoes, he slouched onto his bed before dropping himself back, a long grunt escaping him. He’s tired, agitated, and just wants to sleep. Heck, he can’t even be bothered to deal with the sexual frustration which keeps swirling around in the depths of his pelvis, not feeling up for it. He won’t be able to satisfy himself after what happened, not when the longing for her touch was still wrapped around his soul.

Shit, he fucked this up completely. How could he have been so careless and stupid, and with a human? A human he wants to claim for himself and fool around with, sure, but there’s a difference between fucking a human and touching their soul with your own. 

Well, too late now… He’ll just have to deal with the regret. Somehow.

His red eye lights stared up to the ceiling as he deeply sighed, the conflict he tried to ignore far too loud. He really was a mess, even more so after she called him by name. What is he going to do about that? About her?

_Avoid her_, the little voice of reason whispered and he begrudgingly agreed. He can’t get tangled up in feelings and doubts with Wingdings breathing down his neck and Asgore and his goons ruining things on the Surface. She was so soft though… He can’t get enough of it, her moans still singing inside his skull, her warmth still lingering inside his bones, her scents still staining his shirt. 

Perhaps one day she’ll moan his name. That would be something… Though not exactly possible if he is going to avoid her, now is it? Damn it, why did he have to go and make everything complicated? He needs to think of a new plan to fix this and get his head back in the game.

He closed his sockets after he ran his hands across his face, not liking how lost he felt. He’s better than this. Though, right now? He couldn’t care less; sleep was all he wanted. This can wait until later… hopefully?

Another sigh left him, the frustration he felt lingering as all he could think of was her, their souls wrapped around each other and how she made him feel while he slowly drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

He has fallen for the little pet, hasn’t he…? _Shit_.

  


He wasn’t certain how much time had passed when the sound of knocking roused him from dozing, but he knew it wasn’t enough. 

The knocking was more like an impatient banging, a whiny shrill voice sounding muffled from behind the closed door. He could make out his name being said multiple times, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door; it wasn’t the little lady whose warmth he dearly missed.

Yeah, no. It’s too fucking early to deal with this, that, anything or anyone.

Sans turned his face away from the door to continue with dozing, though jolted when the door suddenly swung open and collided against the wall with a loud slam. The stern shouting of his name startled him even more with how loud it was.

“_SANS_, WAKE UP!”

“For fuck’s sake…” Sans muttered with a grumble when Papyrus barged into his room, not moving from his spot. All he did was tilt his head back to see his upside down brother enter the room and walk over to the bed, a storm brewing across his skeletal face as he stood with a hand propped on his side.

“WHAT ARE YOU STILL IN BED FOR? GET UP ALREADY, LAZYBONES.” There was a pause in the urging when Papyrus rose a brow plate and his singular eye light wandered over his brother. “A… ARE YOU STILL WEARING YESTERDAY’S CLOTHES?” he asked baffled. “SERIOUSLY, SANS, HOW LAZY CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE.”

_I was too busy screwin' myself over_, Sans thought silently to himself in answer, scowling as he knew his nap was over. He lay an arm across his eye sockets with another grumbling before he said,” I didn’t ask for a wake-up call.”

“NO BUT I WAS CERTAIN YOU NEEDED ONE. AND LOOK HERE, IT SEEMS I WAS RIGHT, AS USUAL.” Papyrus leaned over the bed to try and make eye contact with Sans after lifting his thick arm up by the sleeve, the look he gave him scrutinizing. “YOU PROMISED YOU’D HELP ME WITH MAKING LUNCH,” he continued after catching the mild glare he was given by his older brother, though it turned puzzled.

“I promised no such thing?”

“OH, BUT YOU DID.” Papyrus dropped Sans’ arm before he straightened his spine. “NOW GET UP ALREADY, WASH YOURSELF AND GET INTO A CHANGE OF CLOTHES. I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE WITH COOKING. I WON’T REPEAT MYSELF.”

“Sure, fine, whatever.” And this is why he doesn’t like making promises… It always comes back to bite him, and yet, time and time again, he keeps making them. Like the promise to make a certain someone feel good. That backlashed, didn’t it? 

He sighed as he watched the upside-down Papyrus leave his room, feeling too tired and frustrated to get up. He better though; he rather not get into a fight with Papyrus, not after last night and not with him suffering cracked bones. 

The reminder Papyrus is injured eased his frustrations ever so slightly. It’s just lasagne, the skeleton’s favorite dish to make and serve; even Sans can help out with that while bone-tired and, hopefully, it will get his brothers off his back for a while so he can sleep some more. 

  


* * *

  


What is she even reading? The black letters held no meaning, just blurry shapes her eyes instinctively wandered over while she was distracted. All she was aware of was the sweetness of her coffee and the sunlight warming one of her legs while she pretended to read the paper.

The cafe where Emily took refuge in was a place she knew well, a preferred little spot to get away from her life and responsibilities whenever they became too much. She arrived here about an hour ago and ordered the usual; a black coffee, which she would load with sugar to get rid of the bitterness, and today’s paper. 

She left the house a while after her father came home from work and went to bed, taking her chance to find peace elsewhere. She needed time to think and while she could have done so in her room, such was impossible with the looming threat which was her father snoring in the next room. With it being Sunday, work wasn’t an escape she could benefit from, which was a great shame; it was her favorite place to be. At least this cafe was open and welcoming enough.

She didn’t know the people who worked here, aside from their faces. The cafe was rundown and small, allowing people of color and all work classes to come in for breakfast or lunch. The sandwiches and pastries were simple and cheap but still delicious, and so were the warm beverages they served. But that wasn’t on Emily’s mind.

No matter how hard she tried, she caught herself glancing down to her chest and stroking her lips, her thoughts wandering to what occurred the night before. She understood nothing of it, the questions she had far too many. 

She pictured the blue heart floating before her chest, curious to know more about it. He could have easily crushed it, mister Sans the skeleton… and while he did hurt her through her soul, he was mostly gentle with it. To make her feel good… It felt out of character for someone like him but he wasn’t lying; it felt so good that she can’t stop thinking about it. Not even here, out in public. 

To say she was turned on by the memories was an understatement but she played it off well.

She bit down on a nail after tenderly caressing her lower lip, stopping her fingertips from dancing across the soft flesh before telling herself to stop dreaming. She shouldn’t romanticize him; he’s just another asshole who doesn’t care about who she is and what she wants. He could really learn something from his brother. She may not know the “Great” Papyrus well but he has made a far better impression so far… for a skeletal monster, that is. Heck, any monster that doesn’t slam her against walls and grope her at first sight is alright in her book.

Why did Sans have to make everything so complicated?

She took a sip from her coffee after she looked up from her chest and returned her attention to the newspaper, still having no idea what the main article she had tried to read at least five times was about. Something about the Slums and its new neighborhood watch or the likes. Probably gang stuff she had absolutely no interest in. She gave reading the article one final try, not noticing what was happening outside of the small cafe.

Someone glanced through the cafe window as he passed by, not exactly looking at anyone or anything beyond the glass. Yet he stopped walking before backpedaling a few steps after something or someone caught his eye, double checking to see if he saw it right. His face brightened up at finding he was correct before he tapped the window, causing everyone present inside the cafe to look up in curiosity, including Emily.

She recognized him almost instantly after his knocking got her attention and she caught sight of a man behind the cafe’s mirrored logo, the sling his right arm rested in a dead giveaway to who he was. The guy from yesterday; William. 

Why was he here?

He waved at her with the same charming smile he showed her when she met him on the bus, though she wasn’t certain what to think or feel upon seeing him; her head was a mess, her feelings and soul tangled into a knot. She smiled back, however, an instinctive well-mannered gesture many humans fall victim to. 

Perhaps he took it as an invitation, or he simply decided on his own accord to raise a finger to tell her to wait and stay where she was before he entered the cafe, soon making his way over to her table. He seemed excited to see her. “What a nice surprise,” he said. “I didn’t think we would see each other again so soon, if it all.”

_You and me both_, Emily thought as she looked him over, a little taken aback by how her solitude to think in peace was suddenly erased. Not that she minded too much; she was getting lost in thought anyway. A change from thinking about souls and skeletons might be good for her, but with a man she hardly knows?... Well, it can’t be worse than her encounters with Sans. Can it?

“Me neither,” she answered honestly, if not a little bashful as she folded up the newspaper, her final attempt to read it completely shot. 

“May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite of her across the narrow table she sat by, not pulling the empty chair back until after she gave him a small nod. “Thanks,” he said appreciatively as he sat down, still looking bright. “How are you? I am sorry if this is awkward, I recognized you when I walked by and figured I should say hello.”

Awkward wasn’t a strong enough word for this. While she could use the distraction, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in the company of a man, not after what happened with her father and the skeleton she can’t get out of her head. Still… She smiled at him, at first forced to not change her own mind before it grew more genuine. 

He seemed nice enough.

“It is alright,” she said after convincing herself to give William the benefit of a doubt. She dodged his question about how she was doing, not wanting to answer it with a lie but neither wanting to speak of it either; how can she ever explain what happened? She tried something else. “Were you headed somewhere?”

“I just finished an errand,” he said before he looked at the waitress who came over as soon as he sat down. He ordered a coffee, as simple as that, and even gestured to wordlessly ask Emily if she wanted anything. When she shook her head, a coffee was all that was ordered before he carried on with the conversation. “I was on my way back to my employer.”

“Is that your job? Running errands?”

William laughed a little sheepishly. “It is; packages, messages, etcetera. Little odd jobs. Nothing as colorful or dignified as being a florist but it brings bread on the table. Speaking of…” He sounded thoughtful as he tapped his chin, appearing to mull things over before he continued. “If I had known I would meet you today, I would have brought you a little something.” He sounded a little cheeky as his smile grew a little wider. “White daisies and blue baby’s breath.”

“Blue baby’s breath,” Emily said quietly along to finish his sentence before she chuckled and shook her head, feeling embarrassment bubbling up. Of course he remembered, she told him this yesterday, so this wasn’t anything special. It was exactly what she suggested for a “two people meeting platonically to get to know each other better first” kind of date when he asked her about it, but she didn’t think he meant her, a woman he just met. 

Would he truly have done it if he had known beforehand, or was this just a bluff? It was a bit odd, wasn’t it? But also a little endearing? God, this wasn’t that platonic date, was it? She doesn’t want such while her head is full with skeletons.

“Or… Do florists even want flowers as a gift if they already work with them every day?”

She tittered. “Oh, you can make me happy with flowers,” she answered without thinking, soon realizing she was too forward. She better mind what she says to not give this man too many ideas… This was far from a date of any kind and besides, she still doesn’t know if she can trust him. It would be a lie to say she didn’t like the attention she was getting from someone as charming as him but even charmers have their dark side.

The bringing of his order was a decent enough distraction from the topic. William paid on the spot for his coffee, hinting that he wasn’t planning on staying for too long; he did say he was on his way back to his employer. Did he get injured during one of his errands? 

She eyed the sling while her fingers mindlessly caressed the top of the folded newspaper, the small motion drawing his gaze.

“Did you attend the festival?”

She shot him a confused glance before he inclined his head towards the newspaper, her fingers resting upon a black and white photo and a small headline. She looked at the article, not knowing what exactly it was about until she recognized the monument present in the photo; it was the Seven Souls monument, a bronze statue portraying seven children raising their hands towards the east. The article’s headline spoke of the festival which took place last week, in honor of the fifth year anniversary of the Peace Pact and the Barrier’s removal.

She unfolded the paper to take a better look at the photo, the picture not incredibly detailed as the dark ink washed it all out. She knew the monument, however; she had laid flowers at the foot of it throughout the past few years. 

“No, I had to work that day,” she said to answer his question. “Did you?”

“I wasn’t able to go either; too tangled up with errands. Though, I heard it wasn’t anything special so we didn’t miss out on much. Still, I would have liked to have been there, honor the historic event. It did change many lives back then, including mine.”

He spoke the truth. So much has changed, but it wasn’t for the better, not in her opinion. This city suffered from the Barrier’s removal; it wasn’t worth the price paid to remove the magic which kept the humans and monsters apart. 

Seven terminally ill children were sacrificed to make the Peace Pact a reality, their likeness found in the statue. This sacrifice had always upset Emily after it became clear life wasn’t improving and crime overtook the city; it felt in vain. It was why she would bring those bronze children flowers once a while, to honor _their_ memory rather than accept what they gave their lives for, no matter that they were already dying.

“For the better?” she dared to ask.

William nodded. “I would say so, yes. I won’t bore you with the details but I’m better off than I was before. But I wasn’t too optimistic about the whole Peace Pact at first, trust me. Monsters walking and living among humans? Many thought it was ridiculous, blasphemous even.”

She felt the flush of warmth spread through her cheeks after he casually mentioned monsters and what the human populace’s thoughts were on them five years ago, her mind instantly jumping to last night. What Sans did to her… It could easily be branded blasphemous. If others were to find out about it, how would they respond? She knew what her father’s reaction would be… 

Her hand reached up to touch her cheek when her bastard of a father punctured her thoughts. His response would be worse than just a backhand.

“You know…” 

William’s voice drew her out of the rising nerves which accompanied the horrid guesses as to what the man who raised her would do to her if he found out she had been intimate with a monster, her gaze carefully wandering to the man sitting across from her to hear what he has to say.

“I didn’t want to be rude by bringing it up yesterday on the bus, since it seemed only fair that you didn’t bring up my little predicament,” he said as he gestured for the sling his right arm rested in before he looked back at her. “But your eyes… They are stunning.”

The blush which already colored her cheeks deepened with a warmer red, the sudden compliment jumbling her composure. She let out an unintended nervous laugh, the first chuckle a little on the loud side before it turned into awkward giggling. _Okay, slow down there, mister_, she thought to herself while she tried to stifle her chuckling, noticing some people in the cafe were looking her way. 

This wasn’t the first time someone complimented her eyes, they drew quite a bit of attention but this guy? He was trying far too hard.

“Too forward?” he asked after he joined in with laughing and she didn’t vocally respond, seeming a little amused by her reaction and the blush he brought to her face. She nodded however after she pressed a fist against her lips to silence herself, her brown and blue eyes sparkling rather than dark with brooding thoughts. “How about I make it up to you with a date?”

Yep, he’s trying way too hard.

“Say, next Sunday? We can have our own little festival to celebrate the Peace Pact’s anniversary, make up for missing out on it. We can visit the statue, have a walk through the park, maybe eat lunch… or dinner?”

The way he looked at her made it difficult to say no. He was like a puppy: charming, excited, pleading and innocent, at least by appearance. And, God… It has been so long since she went on a date. She _wanted_ this, even with the suspicion she felt. This man has been nothing but nice to her, which was fairly odd when you consider her luck with men. Surely there’s one good guy among the bad? Could he be the exception?__

_ __ _

_ __ _

_Alright, why not? Let’s be crazy for a change_.

“One o’clock?” she asked before biting her lip, already trying not to nervously fidget.

His smile brightened and his eyes lit up when he heard her, the sight of it making her heart flutter. Truly like a handsome puppy. 

“One o’clock at the park entrance,” he agreed before he pushed his chair back and stood up, quickly finishing up his coffee as if he was in a sudden hurry. His toothy smile stayed wide even after he almost burned his tongue by drinking the still hot coffee far too fast. He set the mug down before he nodded to her, clumsiness staining his behavior as he was brimming with excitement. “I’ll see you then. Emily.”

It was nice to hear her name be said by him, like he was breathing new life into it. It made her smile and almost forget about last night. Almost. “It’s a date,” she said shyly but still with confidence, hoping with all her might she won’t regret this. She was adamant with the belief that she deserved something good in her life, even something as simple as a date. No skeletal monster or abusive dad can possibly ruin this.

William took his leave with the same elation he stood up with, the man looking and behaving as if he was in heaven. He got rewarded for trying hard and, for once, she wasn’t second-guessing herself about it. He seemed so happy, how couldn’t she feel the same?

She watched him cross the street before he disappeared from view, the sweetness of the sip of coffee she took matching how she felt. She couldn’t forget about the monster who touched her soul with his own and made her feel things she never thought possible, his presence looming in the back of her mind like a demanding shadow. Right now though, William was front and center amidst her thoughts and she didn’t mind it whatsoever.

  


* * *

  


Emily wasn’t the only one who was distracted. Although he wasn’t as happy as her, Sans’ mind wasn’t on cooking lasagna, especially after the dish was put in the oven. 

He did what Papyrus demanded of him; he got up, had a depressing shower and got dressed in clean clothes, just not as fast as his younger brother would have liked. He was still grumpy and not in the greatest of moods,l left without any satisfaction to his little cravings.

Papyrus was already impatiently waiting in the kitchen when Sans finally came downstairs, all the ingredients and tools laid out on the counter. He happily barked about what needed to be done, though he was just as eager to cut in whenever he believed Sans wasn’t doing it right. Broken collarbone or not, everything needed to be perfect and Papyrus made absolutely certain that this lasagne would be the best yet.

There was plenty of bickering between the two as neither would recede and let the other do all the work, but as soon as the oven dish was done and left to bake, the two brothers kept to themselves. 

Sans was tired and grumpy, unable to stop thinking, doubting and regretting. He couldn’t stop planning either, trying again and again to come up with ways to right his mistake, to tell himself he hadn’t gone soft for a human, and that he was still in control of this whole mess. This stupid frustrating mess.

He slowly spun one of his golden rings around while he tried not to recall Emily’s mismatched eyes, her soft lips and warm skin, to not hear her voice resounding inside his skull, moaning his name and begging for more. It was a losing battle. All he wanted to do was fuck her so hard, he’ll forget about what he did with their souls. It was the only solution which kept pushing forward and he hated it.

He didn’t look up from the glistening gold when someone taller than Papyrus entered the kitchen, shuffled to the counter and poured themselves a large cup of coffee. Neither did he look up when the chair next to him was pulled back and the coffee drinking monster sat down beside him, the small red pinpricks in his black sockets staying on the jewelry worn on his bony but thick fingers. It wasn’t until a long irritating slurping sounded that Sans slowly turned his head to glare at Wingdings, the eldest brother not seeming fazed in the slightest.

“How is your bone?” he asked into the cup while he looked over the top of Sans’ skull towards Papyrus, sipping the thick black lava which usually kept him awake enough. It seems he pulled another all-nighter, his eye sockets more droopy than usual.

Papyrus stood with his back towards the kitchen table, tending to the dirty dishes to pass the time. He glanced at his injury hidden within the red shirt he wore after Wingdings asked about it, seeming to ponder about his answer. “LESS SEVERE THAN INITIALLY THOUGHT.”

_Lies_. Sans knew he was keeping face in front of the big scary brother, the lectures from the day before having done their job; the youngest Gaster was cautious to not say or do the wrong thing. 

“Good.” Wings sounded pleased, if not a little thoughtful. “That means you can head to Edge City tomorrow for another task.”

Their interest was piqued when he brought up the Surface city, though for various reasons. Sans didn’t have a good feeling about what Wings was going to share while Papyrus withheld on his curiosity to look focused, his sockets narrowed.

“I have acquired a shipment of whiskey which needs safe storage within the city. A Dozen Daisies remains the best place for the job, but unfortunately,” Wingdings cut himself off to take another large sip from his coffee, not seeming in a big hurry to continue talking. If only he knew how much he grated Sans’ impatience. Or perhaps he did know and simply didn’t care. He continued after savoring the bitter beverage,” thanks to the Yellow Ties, we couldn’t uphold our contract with Franklin. He won’t be pleased to hear about his truck.”

“No kiddin’. He’ll have our skulls and turn them into flower pots if he weren’t so old,” Sans smirked.

Wingdings agreed. “Indeed. If it weren’t for his shop in our area, I wouldn’t have cared about him or his opinions whatsoever but he is useful.”

_And has a good taste in young flower-lovin’ dames_, Sans thought after leaving his rings alone. He had to admit to himself that he liked Eddie and would almost call him a friend. He was an alright human, good wit, a decent sense of humor and not so easily disposed of. But Sans knew the old man was a spitfire, too; the loss of his beloved truck won’t be something that’s so easily brushed under a rug. They’ll have to come up with something to appease him while also keeping him in the Gasters’ services. 

“Where did ya even get the booze from?”

“Contacts,” came the short answer. 

Sans clicked his tongue at the predictable answer. Typical Wingdings… Hardly goes into detail unless it is instructions. “And who’s the liquid gold for then? Ya ain't plannin’ on panderin’ it off to some drunkards like Tony did, are ya?”

The tall skeleton with holes in his hands scoffed and laughed under his breath. “Adler was a fool if he believed he could buy proper loyalty with alcohol and drugs. No, we’ll be storing it for future establishments in our area. The prices of alcohol are steadily growing more expensive the lesser alcohol becomes available on the Surface. If we want our businesses to thrive, we’ll have to stock up while we can.”

Not too bad of a plan. Sans nodded agreeingly as he thought about it. He didn’t quite understand what exactly humans saw in alcohol. It tastes awful and absolutely held no candle to the spices of mustard, but then that was his own opinion. It’s like Wingdings and coffee; Sans can’t stomach the black drink but Wings guzzled it down as if his own soul was made of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if so.

“Well, Paps is the right skeleton to break the news to Eddie about his truck. Rather him than me.”

A deep sigh could be heard coming from the sink, the lanky monster hanging his head before he glanced back over a shoulder to shoot a glare in Sans’ direction. “WHY AM I ALWAYS THE ONE TO NEGOTIATE?”

“Cuz ye’re charmin’, little brother,” Sans snickered. “Ya have a way with humans and they like ya more than they like me, Eddie included.”

“You best work on your charms then, Sans, because you will be joining him tomorrow.”

Sans’ wicked grin died off after Wings burst his bubble, his already small eyelights shrinking at the realization he will be visiting the flower shop. And who is at that shop? Her blue and brown eyes crossed his mind before he shook his head to be rid of the image. No. No, this wasn’t a part of his plan; he can’t go near that woman, not after what happened. Not while he feels all messed up.

“I don’t think so,” Sans grumbled while glaring at the chair opposite of him. “Paps can easily do this alone. He doesn't need me.”

Wings leaned a little closer to the broad skeleton, his imposing aura enveloping him and causing Sans to break a sweat while his nerves spiked with a lacing of frustration. “I wasn’t asking,” came the dreaded words, words which made Sans grind his sharp teeth firmly against each other to not do something stupid. “After what happened yesterday, neither of you will venture to the Surface alone. I don’t care about the reason; no solo visits under any circumstances.”

He would have laughed in Wingdings’ face if he was daring enough to boast about last night’s escapades, but Sans was luckily smarter than that. He’ll relish in silence about having broken Wings’ little rules, especially as nobody seemed to have noticed his absence during the night and early morning. Right now, though, there was nothing to be proud of. 

How can he get out of this one?

“What, ya think Papyrus can’t handle himself?” he tried as he glanced towards Papyrus, the tall skeleton having turned around to be a part of the conversation, even though he had yet to say anything. “Ye’re cuttin’ him short, bro. He was unstoppable yesterday, ya should’ve seen him.”

Wings was not impressed by the indirect compliments Sans slid around like money under a counter for some dirty deeds, not falling for the little guilt trip. “I don’t know what you are trying to play here, Sans, but you aren’t getting out of this chore so easily. You will drive Papyrus to Edge City and you will accompany him to A Dozen Daisies. I want this deal to be made with Franklin before I lose another expensive stash of wares to Asgore. Am I clear?”

They glared at each other with such an intensity that magic began to seep free from Sans’ left socket, red tendrils of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth and clenched jaws. Wingdings is lucky they are related and that Sans has some respect for him, otherwise he would have delivered him another crack across his smooth skull.

“Well then,” he growled from deep down while his glare flared and tainted his voice. He roughly pushed his chair back with a slamming of his hands against the tabletop as he stood up, his bones shuddering with held back annoyance; he was on the verge of losing his temper. “If that’s the damn case, I best go check on the car.” His black suspenders snapped against his ribs as he angrily pulled them across his shoulders before snatching his jacket from the chair’s backrest. He leaned down and closer to Windings after sticking a thick arm into one of the sleeves, saying spitefully,” wouldn’t wanna miss out on smellin’ flowers for human booze.”

Wings appeared unfazed by it all, and it only pissed him off more.

“SANS, WHAT ABOUT LUNCH?” 

Papyrus’ question forced Sans to linger after he left the table and headed for the door like a dark stormcloud, not liking how obnoxious everything had suddenly become. He mumbled on purpose to not give a solid answer, not wanting to disappoint his little brother, but he wasn’t going to spend another second in Wingdings’ infuriating presence. Visiting Snowdin’s mechanic to check on the state of the bullet-ridden car was a decent excuse to get some time to think and calm down.

He left in a hurry, his mind already racing with aggravating thoughts. 

He was going to avoid the flower girl, that was the plan. Now his own brother is herding him straight to her. Shit, he really needs to come up with a solution before tomorrow; he isn’t ready to face her or his feelings.


	6. Let's Have A Chit Chat

This is the life. Colorful surroundings, pleasant smells, nice tunes, and no monsters or fathers to ruin anything. As a bonus, she gets to keep her hands and mind occupied to not let them wander to unholy or negative thoughts. Why can’t it always be like this? 

Emily was in heaven this late morning, humming along with the music sounding from the old radio while she arranged a bouquet to sell in the store. Though a smile wasn’t a rare sight, it hadn’t shown itself much this past week. This day it was beaming, and contagious.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

The elderly florist sounded amused from behind his newspaper, teasing the young woman a little when he distracted her with his observation. She smiled at him after he made her aware of herself and was a little reluctant at first before she chuckled under her breath. “I had a nice Sunday, is all.” 

It was true, for the most part.

Edward hummed as if asking the wordless question of ‘is that so?’ before he followed it up with,” was it a guy?” He tilted the newspaper forward so he could see her over the top of the pages and the rim of his round glasses, the woman letting out a noise of embarrassment.

“What makes you think that?” Her red cheeks and averting gaze betrayed her.

“Cuz you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve right now, and it’s bursting with joy, that’s what. Though, not that I'm complaining; it’s about time some peace returned to this shop after what happened.”

Emily lightly rubbed her chest after Edward made mention of her heart, the colors of blue and red pressing forward towards her mind’s eye. Her embarrassed smile grew softer and more gentle as she pushed away the reminders of Saturday night, not wanting to think of the wrong man, even though he was always front and center ever since he came into her life. “Okay, so maybe it was a guy,” she eventually said as she thought about William instead, her head nodding sideways as it felt silly talking about it.

“Maybe, she says,” Edward smirked as he popped the newspaper back up to continue reading while he sat behind the counter, though he wasn’t done talking about it yet. “He good to you?”

She blinked at the question. He actually cared? It shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. It’s been a while since someone not chasing her skirt showed genuine interest in her life, but then Mr. Franklin had been nothing but supportive and kind to her. He was the kind of father figure she hasn’t had for quite some years by now… Or perhaps grandfather is a better title to tag onto the old man. It was a comforting thought.

The gentle smile remained after she returned to giving the bouquet some more of her love and care, carefully handling the flowers. “So far, yes,” she answered with her usual honesty, feeling the twinge of excitement run around in her stomach. “We’ll be going on a date upcoming Sunday.”

“Aah, that explains why you’re so giddy,” the florist dryly chuckled, his black eye squinting more than usual. “What’s his name?”

“William.”

What he said next surprised her but not in a good way. “Human then.”

A frown formed on her face when the wonder as to why would he assume otherwise crossed her mind. She would never--

She stopped herself as the truth was sharp but precise, hitting her straight where it hurt. Yes, she _would_. Saturday night was solid proof that she would get close to a monster in more ways than one. But this… This wasn’t about Sans the Skeleton. This was about William and he was very much human. 

Only a nod was given to confirm Edward’s guess, the man not seeing it from behind his newspaper but he didn’t inquire any further. “Well, I hope you’ll have a good time this weekend. God knows you deserve it.”

“You deserve it too.”

“A good time?” He laughed his usual hoarse laughter. “I’m too old for that lovey-dovey nonsense. Just let me run this shop, read my newspaper and have a nice young lady like yourself look after me, and I am content. I won’t ask for more than some peace and quiet without any monster business or gang shenanigans.”

_Amen to that_, she thought as she tied up the freshly made bouquet, done with the little piece of work. She tucked the premade price tag between the flowers before she brushed past Edward to present it with the other bouquets which are up for sale, not paying heed to the two shadows passing the shop window as she put the bouquet on display. She was too occupied, her eyes on the flowers rather than the outside world, until the bell above the door jingled and announced the arrival of visitors. Unfortunately, she and Edward quickly learned it wasn’t a customer. 

Of course… The good life doesn’t last for one like her, or for the poor old man who is her boss. Why did she dare to think and hope otherwise?

Emily took an unintentional small step back when the first thing she saw coming through the door was the familiar fanged grin of the one who had violated her very soul, the sight of him making her nerves and instincts scream in a conflicting chorus of terror and concern. She held her breath when their gazes crossed, somewhat curious to see his reaction upon seeing her. She could tell his grin wasn’t genuine, the corners of it drawn down a little too far; he wasn’t happy to see her.

The cold shoulder she received was confusing and only fed the agitation which had been gnawing on the insides of her stomach since Sunday morning, the skeleton averting his gaze from her to blatantly ignore her.

This was the most distant he has been towards her, which was incredibly strange with how hands-on and up in her face he has been. He’s treating her like a common whore, isn’t he? He had his little fun, got what he wanted and she was no longer of interest to him. Oh, how she would love to give him a piece of her mind.

Edward scoffed and folded up his newspaper after Papyrus entered the shop right behind his brother and closed the door with another jingle of the bell, the tall skeleton decent enough to take off his fedora while Sans stood uncaringly with his hands stuck deep into his pockets.

“Heya, Eddie.”

“Well, well, well,” the old man said gruffly as he got off the stool and limped around the counter when hearing Sans’ greeting, giving them both a scrutinizing glance,” using the front door, huh? Lemme guess, something happened to my truck.”

His straightforward observation caused the monsters to exchange a look with each other, seeming to quietly draw invisible straws on who will be the one to break the news. Papyrus lost, apparently, as he was the one to give an indirect answer. “WE RAN INTO A FEW COMPLICATIONS.”

“Yeaaaah, I’m gonna leave this one to ya, Paps,” Sans said tiredly after they received the foulest of glares from the old man, the broad skeleton shrugging at the grumble Papyrus growled from behind his clenched jaws. He was quick to leave once he made his personal little plan clear, heading for the hallway to disappear into the back room as if it was the only escape from this mess.

Edward looked after him as if he was a disobedient child which wasn’t his, disapprovingly shaking his head before he focused on Papyrus with the same burning glare. “My office, _now_,” he sternly said as if he was the one in charge. He was in his mind; his shop, his rules. No mobster or monster has a say in this place and he’d damn well make sure of it.

Papyrus held back on a sigh as he put his hat back on, the sideways glance he gave Emily almost making her pity him. He nodded to show he understood before he followed after his brother to talk with Edward in private, ducking to enter the hallway.

“Emily.” The saying of her name made her straighten up with worry. “Please close up the shop; best nobody interrupts us during… well, this.” He cloaked his frustration well, but she picked up on it; the poor man was livid.

“Of course.” She leaned into the display window to turn around the Open sign and do as she was told, before turning the lock on the door to make absolutely certain no unaware customers would wander inside. He was right; this business is best kept inside the shop’s premises. She had no idea what the whole “truck” talk is about but then Edward didn’t include her in the shady side of his shop, and with good reason.

The old florist nodded appreciatively before saying,” continue working if you have the focus for it. We have some orders for delivery tomorrow which need some preparation. Just... stay here, alright?”

“Alright…” She stayed by the window as she watched him retreat into the office, not moving until she heard the door close. She frowned at the silence which followed, the sounds from outside not loud enough to stop her line of thought. 

This wasn’t right. 

She bit her lip after she allowed her two-colored eyes to wander around the shop, reciting what her boss told her to do. Work if she has the focus… She has none and she knew exactly why. Her whole being was drawn towards the hallway and wherever Sans had disappeared to, and God, did she hate it. 

Answers was what she wanted and these flowers sure weren’t going to give them to her. Staying here in the shop wasn’t an option if the chance to talk about Saturday night was there. Will she let it slip by to be obedient?

Hell no.

She took off her apron and lay it on the counter before she quietly walked into the hallway and past the closed office door, hearing Papyrus’ loud-spoken voice through the slab of wood. She tried not to eavesdrop or guess the emotion the skeleton might be talking with, instead continuing onward with determination in her step. The back room door was open, the weak breeze she felt brushing past her legs giving away another door was open. The dock door, maybe?

The guess was right, though the dock doors stood only somewhat ajar, enough to let someone of his broad stature slips through. _Such a marvelous escape_, she sarcastically thought after she entered the back room. Did he really go this far to avoid having a conversation with Edward about a truck, or was there more to it? He wasn’t doing this to avoid her, was he? That would be incredibly childish.

Actually, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. He ran that morning, why wouldn’t he run now?

She fidgeted as she looked at the back of his wide body and the pale-colored skull, feeling her courage and determination waver. What is she even going to say to him? Well, only one way to find out.

The skeleton didn’t hear her coming, too busy with smoking a cigar and staring into the open but narrow area of the sealed off back alley. It was secluded and private, one of the reasons as to why the Gasters were interested in stashing unsavory wares here.

She raised a hand to tap him on his shoulder but stopped herself after reluctance bit her hard and made her doubt her decision. She sharply inhaled and puffed up her cheeks as she stood with a held up hand and curled fingers, slowly lowering it as she huffed. She needed to be stronger, or at least come off as strong.

“We need to talk.”

His broad shoulders jerked upon hearing her before his head quickly turned, his eye sockets round and large while the butt of the cigar was tightly clenched between his sharp teeth. His startled expression turned sour when he realized who was there, his gaze already turning away with an accompanying groan.

He knew this would happen. 

Nobody can say he didn’t try to stay away from the flower shop, for he tried his best. Sabotaging the fixing of their car was unsuccessful, simply because the mechanic was too good at his job and… well, he loved his car; he can’t get himself to intentionally damage it. Trying to guilt trip Wingdings this morning didn’t work, and neither did it have an effect on Papyrus. Papyrus wasn’t having it either when Sans suggested he’d stay in the car and let his younger brother do the talking and negotiating. So here he was… trying his best to stay out of trouble while not straying too far from Papyrus.

A pity trouble finds him whenever he isn’t seeking it. 

Sans exhaled a long trail of red smoke after he returned to staring off into the distance, not liking the nervous edge he felt creeping up his spine. He liked it even less when the sensation intensified after Emily stepped around him so she would be in his view.

“What was that Saturday? What did you do to me?”

“I tucked you in,” came his cold and unserious answer, the monster seeming to be more interested in the chained up exit of the alleyway than the woman who was pleading for answers, but that surely wasn’t the case.

He could fight it all he wanted but nearly all of his senses were on her. He took in the sound of her voice, the slight tremble he picked up on, how she looked from the edge of his vision. He had noticed she’d tied her hair up differently from before. The way her nose scrunched with the narrowing of her eyes was adorable, but not adorable enough to simmer down the tense atmosphere the female florist brought with her.

“My soul, Sans.” He inwardly cringed upon hearing his name. “What did you do to my soul?”

He sighed through his nose cavity and closed his eye sockets, refusing to look at her and see the dark blue glow of the soul she mentioned. He really wasn’t ready for this confrontation. “I made ya feel good. Happy?”

“_No_. No, I am not _happy_.” She balled her hands into fists and took a step closer to him, her cheeks red from what she was holding back on. “You haven’t done anything to make me feel good. You pinned me down more than once. You hurt me. You broke into my home. You violated my privacy, and then you--you, you--”

“Fucked your soul with mine, yeah,” he bluntly stated, finally looking at her with an expression of annoyance. “No need to make a big deal out of it.”

“H-how fucking dare you,” she hissed through her teeth after she stared at him in disbelief. “It is a big deal! Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve been doing to me? Do you even care?” She didn’t give him the chance to answer, instead answering for him. “No, you don’t!”

Sans frowned at the outburst. He likes it when she gets feisty but this wasn’t the right kind of feisty.

She continued after angrily waving her arms. “You have your fun with me and then you drop me as if I am worth nothing, that whatever you did to me doesn’t mean shit. Well, it means shit to me!” She pointed at herself as she grimaced, though dropped her arms and shook her head with a frustrated sigh, her face turning away from him. “You ran the last time, left me without an explanation or closure. Why?”

“Whaddaya mean I ran? Who do ya think I am? I run from nobody.”

A hint of offense flashed across her face. “Yes, you did. You looked unlike yourself before you disappeared, as if you were torn or scared. I saw it.” Her frustration cleared up when a thought crossed her mind after she picked up on the narrowing of his eye sockets, carefully asking,” a-are you afraid…?” Him raising his brow plate made her realize it. “Oh God, you _are_ afraid.”

“Heh.” He halfheartedly chuckled, his uncertainty shimmering through while his grin was crooked. What was she getting at? “Alright then, dollface, humor me. What’s there for me, the big scary skeleton, to be afraid of?”

She inched away from him after he brought himself closer to show he wasn’t taking her seriously but still curious, the smoldering end of his cigar almost touching her cheek. She wetted her lips as if gathering her courage before she uttered a little frightened,” me…”

He quickly leaned back, looking befuddled.

“It's me… You are afraid of me.”

All he could do was laugh to hide the surprise he felt, feeling a chill creeping up his spine to the back of his neck. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like how easily she exposed him with the truth, a truth he refused to believe. Why did her soul have to be the color of integrity? It annoyed him. “Listen,” he said as he closed the distance once more, his annoyance showing across his skeletal face,” I ain't afraid of ya or any human out there. Got it? Don’t think silly thoughts, it’s not a good look on ya.”

“But I am not just any human to you, am I?” she asked defiantly, refusing to back down after she caught a glimpse of gaining the upper hand on him. “Why else do you keep toying with me? You can do that with any human woman but you chose me.”

Nope, he _really_ didn’t like this.

“Tell me…” she pleaded after he refused to indulge her. “After all the fucked up shit you’ve done to me, do you even know my name?”

The question surprised Sans and it made his facade slightly crack, but not enough for her to pick up on it. 

He knows her name, but saying it out loud or thinking about it made everything too real. He wasn’t ready to face the reality about what was going on between them, no matter how it made her feel in turn. He leaned in close without showing any fear for what her reaction might be, saying with a nod and a sickening grin full of malice,” I do. It’s flower girl. Dollface. Babe. Little lady. Pet.”

He could hear her heart break just by looking at the sharp change in her expression and frankly, it wasn’t pleasant for him either, but he made this shitty bed and he’ll lay in it.

The hard and sudden smack which followed was something he didn’t mentally prepare himself for. His cigar hit the concrete of the dock and rolled off it after it was knocked from between his teeth, a trail of ash left behind it. She grabbed for her hand and huddled into her shoulders after the slap she delivered hurt her more than it did him, but she refused to look away from him, her defiance dripping off of her. 

His grin was a snarl when he looked at her, his left eye light flaring like a growing flame of hellfire. His cheek tingled but it didn’t hurt; it was just bone after all. No, his pride and soul took the hit and he couldn’t handle it. He grabbed her arm and gave her a hard shove towards the nearby pallet stacked with large sacks, slamming her down onto the pile by roughly pushing her head down.

“Careful there, _dollface_,” he sneered as his fingers pressed against the back of her skull and the bun she’d tied her hair up in, pinning her down onto the sacks of potting soil. “Ya might just hurt yerself… more.” He sounded threatening and royally pissed off, her struggling not making him withdraw or give her any leeway to move. 

She pushed with her hands against the side of the stack she was bent over and held against to get away from him, before grabbing for his wrist to pull his large hand off of her head, though her strength was no match for his. He hardly budged. “Let go of me, Sans!”

Again with his name. She’s making this far too personal than it should be. He leaned over her with his broad chest and brought his face closer to hers, his hand staying in place.

“Yer aim is pretty inconsistent, ya know that? Two lucky shots, but the rest? Heh… Last the knife, then our first little time together. Ya remember? That toy shovel mishap, and then ya went for family jewels that ain't even there,” he laughed as he mocked her attempt to knee him in the groin the first time he had her pinned, her struggle weakening as he slowly rested his weight against her. “That was cute.”

Her different colored eyes were wide in fear. “B-but you--You’re lying. I felt it.”

“Ooh, did ya now?” His grin grew sharper and wider as he could feel her panicked fluster course through her after she admitted to having felt his throbbing ectoplasm before, her words and reactions stroking his ego. The building heat from her slender body radiated against his bones, the very same bones he was pressing against her back and behind. “Did ya like it?”

Emily clenched her eyes shut at the question, unable to avert her face from him to hide her shame. “No,” she lied with a whimper,” it shouldn’t even be possible, you’re a skeleton! It’s not real.”

He laughed. “Oh, it’s very real. It's magic, the good kind,” he whispered sultry into her ear as he shifted against her, his unoccupied hand wandering down her side. “The kind ya can't get enough of and keeps ya up at night with the thought of wantin’ more.” 

A soft noise of startle squeaked from the depth of her throat when the front of his hard pelvis pressed against her behind; she could feel it move and swell in size, a large bulge forming. His breath against her ear and neck was steaming hot with arousal as he shamelessly gave her another taste of the realness which formed in his pants, the magic obeying his lust.

“I can give it to ya, right here and now,” he continued to whisper, hearing her swallow while her whole body grew hotter. “Pin ya down, fill ya up nice and slow,” he growled as his contained cock parted her delicate soft cheeks through the barriers of cloth, finally feeling her shudder rather than struggle. His hand continued to wander down the skirt of her lilac dress, slowly drawing it up with his greedy fingers to reach what he was intentionally looking for. “Make ya forget about our souls and whatever it is ya hate about me as I slowly fuck yer brains out, and all before anyone will find us. How about it?”

She seemed to like the idea, even if she didn’t look it. She looked painfully thoughtful and tormented, the shame she felt making her eyelashes and lips tremble. Her contemplating his suggestions was utterly delicious to behold but he was growing impatient. 

Papyrus is a long-winded talker, especially when things need to be smoothed over and deals need to be made, but he won’t talk forever and keep old Eddie and himself occupied and unaware of what Sans was trying to do out back. Time wasn’t a certainty here.

Her struggle returned when his hand went between her legs and cupped her heat, the thin cloth of her underwear damp to the touch. Her wet arousal didn’t mirror her futile attempts to deny how he made her feel with his little tauntings. 

“Sans, no--”

Her cry of objection was stifled by hard bone fingers clasping across her mouth and his fingers hungrily clawing up the piece of cloth which stopped him from touching her skin and wetness. Her head was no longer pressed down, though his large body and weight prevented her from escaping. Not that she was trying too hard.

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed as he stuck his hand inside her undergarment and went straight to her flushed lips, a thick finger pushing between the folds which were already slippery with her juices. “If I am to fuck ya, it won’t be out here, no. Somewhere better is more deservin’.”

But right now? This place is just fine to finger her until she comes, fuck her with different kind of bones than the one throbbing in the confines of his pants. He’ll prove to himself he is still in control, that this woman hasn’t crept into his bones and left a mark on his soul. And he’ll prove to her that he knows what she want and that she isn’t “worth nothing”. He wouldn’t go this far for some random meaningless woman.

His golden rings felt cooler than his bones as he rubbed the sensitive clit with held back hunger and parted those soft lips with every downward stroke of his fingers. He liked how wet she was, how it stained his fingers and how every little touch made her whimper behind his hand. Her attempt to clamp her thighs together was weakening with the seconds which went on by, her feet and behind slowly rising as she gradually stood on her toes. She was leaning into his hand and it made his soul soar in desire.

Ooh, she was liking this.

He rocked against her in the same rhythm as he pleasured her, his hips rolling to grind against her and feel her cheeks almost embrace his throbbing. One day, that wetness which was spreading up to his rings and knuckles will wrap around his cock. He can’t wait to feel it. He already can’t stop imagining how it will look, one of his thick fingers pushing into her like a substitute for what he kept in his pants. 

She was quiet, even with his hand kept over her mouth. Quite a different scene from Saturday night; her muffled mewling and moans were more like delicate little sighs, while his heavy breathing and panting were more gravely and beast-like, rough and primal. He would love to hear her lust and desire sing, but even if this high walled back alley was secluded, they were still outside. Not to mention that there were two others inside the shop which could hear them at any time if they were to fully give in.

“Want me to go faster?” he quietly groaned before plunging his finger far into her heat to make her squirm. “Deeper?” Her little reactions, sounds, and smells were intoxicating, the way she lifted her head and let out a long subdued moan behind his hand in response to his questions and actions making him quiver in pure ecstasy. He’ll take it all as a yes.

She was tight and he loved it. Her warm slippery walls were squeezing his thick fingers after he pushed another into her, her whole body having surrendered to his touch. Her anger was far gone, though he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for it to flare up again once she recovers from the climax he is determined to give her… and himself. 

He was rock hard, the grinding against her and the hot fantasies which swirled through his head not doing him any favors of calming down his erection. His soul was pulsing in his ribcage, oozing with carnal pleasure just like her wetness he continued to caress. His fingers pumped fast into her, in and out while his member rubbed back and forth and rocked her against the stacked pile. The wooden pallet below was beginning to whine with each thrust, the sacks slowly shifting.

It was faint with his hand muzzling her but he heard it. His name, something he desperately wanted to hear her moan. She whimpered it through her rapid breaths, her long legs trembling heavier than before as she rose as high as she possibly could on her toes to guide his fingers to the right spots. She was close and that thought was incredibly arousing.

“Watcha holdin’ back for, babe? Let it happen,” he demandingly urged as he worked himself firmer against her, feeling her pursed lips, tongue and breath press against the palm of his skeletal hand. “I wanna feel it.”

The fruit of his labor, that’s what he wanted to see. He took a risk during his anger and so far it has paid off, but it wasn’t over yet. He had tamed her just like before by forcing himself onto her but will she stay tamed, or slap him again once the burning passion settles? Did he finally erase her distaste of him?

She came so sweetly. It was innocent in comparison to him, silent and composed while he heavily grunted as he came with one final stroke against her soft behind. They shuddered in unison, panting hot breaths as the climax washed over them and left them speechless but satisfied, for a change.

Finally, some release. Not the kind he wanted but it took the edge off the tension which had painfully brewed in his pelvis for the past few days. Good thing it was ectoplasm and magic; easy to deal with, it was nothing he needed to worry about, nobody would see it once he dismisses it. It was sticky, though, and warm. 

As a bonus, his little lady had a release of her own, the woman no longer standing on her toes, instead laying flat on her stomach ontop the pile which was no longer being shaken by them.

How long ago since last she came? It was quite some time for him, which made this moment all the more special. He could have picked a better location though, but one doesn’t think rationally in the heat of a moment and when having a short temper.

He slowly removed his fingers from her steaming heat, the removal making her body weakly twitch as she was overly sensitive down there, not to mention soaked. He took his hand away from her mouth to give her some freedom though he stayed hunched over her, his weight pressing against her back. A silent sign he was still the one in control.

It’s not something he wanted, but he waited for the expected tantrum while he savored her closeness and warmth while he could. 

“Why…?” The question sounded subdued, the young woman out of breath and dazed. She kept her face averted from him, probably because she felt a sense of shame or guilt for giving in, but it was but a guess.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this… to me? To us?”

Sans took a deep breath as he pondered his answer before nuzzling against her neck to give it a soft bite with his sharp teeth, not feeling ready just yet to pull away from her. She was warm, soft and smelled nice. The nibble made her squirm with a shivering moan and it caused him to chuckle under his breath. 

“Why do ya think I keep tryin’ ta make ya feel good?” She remained silent, awaiting what he would say. “Because ye’re mine.”

He finally withdrew after saying those four intimidating words, taking his weight off of her as he pushed himself up and took a step back, allowing her to move. He adjusted his pants with a huff, his ectoplasm no longer writhing or pulsing as it had calmed with the little act. He eyed her skirt-covered behind as she shifted against the stacked pallet, daring to meet her gaze when she pushed herself up on her elbows and finally looked at him.

Her cheeks were red from pleasure, her eyes glazed over with the same. Yet her eyebrows were knitted together and formed a faint frown. That was a look that didn’t bode all too well. Here comes the tantrum he was expecting. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Of course… 

The skeleton halfly smirked and scoffed at her response. “Keep tellin’ yerself that,” he grinned, feeling far too mellow to make a fuss about her pathetic little rebuke. She is his, the human he has grown soft for. 

“I will because it is true.” She ran her hands down her dress to be decent, her knees still a little shaky from the sudden intensity she willingly endured. Her fingers carefully brushed over her hair, tucking any stray strands away while securing the bun resting at the nape of her neck, the skeleton having made a mess of it.

He intently watched her every move and little gesture, liking what he was seeing. That blush suited her and he was the cause behind it. Humans were alluring creatures with their flesh, skin, and hair and, at this very moment, she was the most alluring. She said it earlier; he could have done this with any woman, but he chose her. Her eyes, her soul; she captivated him straight off the bat. He no longer hated it as much.

“You can’t keep messing with my head, Sans, or my body. Let alone my soul. It hurts…” She didn’t look at him again after she wrapped her arms around her waist to hug herself, but this time, the shame she felt was obvious. “You keep dodging my questions by being a jerk or forcing yourself onto me. You don’t take any responsibility for all you’ve done against me. Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want this?”

“That ya don’t want this?” he repeated through a low laugh,” sure didn’t seem like that a moment ago.” He lifted a hand and rubbed two of his fingers against his thumb to show what he was talking about, and it made her upper lip curl up in repulsion. 

“This is exactly what I am talking about,” she said angrily after pushing her thighs firmer against each other, the reminder what he did to her and she just enjoyed making her feel a little nauseous. “You don’t give two shits. All you care about is yourself and your twisted fucked up desires.”

Another faint chuckle left him. “I didn’t expect ya ta show any gratitude for me treatin’ ya right, but ya can be quite a rude little lady whenever ya deny how ya truly feel about me.”

“You’re one to talk,” she huffed as she turned to him, only need to take one step forward to prod his chest with a finger. “You just do as you please, take whatever you want and push your weight around without caring or thinking about the consequences. You don’t even consider if there is already someone in my life. You simply thought ‘ohey, a helpless defenseless little human with a cute butt, lemme claim it’ and believe it is right. Well, I don’t know how it works in the Underground, but the world on the Surface doesn’t work that way.”

He genuinely laughed at her interpretation. Oh, he considered it; it was why he was so pissed when he mistook her dad for her lover. But when Edward cleared up that misunderstanding, he was absolutely certain there was no guy in her life. Heck, she would have protested harder against his forceful advances if so. “There’s only me in yer head and soul, babe.”

She prodded his chest more firmly after her nose scrunched in frustration. “It’s Emily, _Eh-muh-lee_. Not babe or dollface or whatever,” she bit angrily after he once more refused to call her by her actual name. “And no, it isn’t _just_ you, so get off your high horse.”

What’s this then? A bluff to get on his bad side so she can push aside her shame for liking what he did to her? How cruel. 

He shook his head as he felt it flickering in his gut, the thought of another man holding her attention feeding his jealousy. There’s no way in hell that she found some guy between now and Sunday morning, or since their first meeting. He believed her words were nothing but a lie to keep a distance between herself and the skeletal mobster, but he couldn’t help to lay some weight in those words.

The color of her soul reminded him that she won’t lie too quickly, that there is always a form of truth hidden behind whatever she says or does.

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from pressing her finger into his chest, his head slowly tilting to the side as he grinned wickedly at her. “I don’t care who it is,” he said threateningly as he brought his face closer to her, leering into her blue and brown eyes. “I will flay and brutally murder any guy who dares lay a finger on ya, good or bad. Ye’re mine, dollface, don’t think otherwise.”

She swallowed as she stared wide-eyed at him, believing him. It was a good thing he was unaware of the name which crossed her mind, fearing for the man she met on the bus. He best never know. Neither of them should know. She lowered her gaze and head while her shoulders rose, her voice lost to fear and discomfort, reminding herself she was already unfaithful. She had no right to pretend she was innocent or without fault. But, can she be unfaithful if she isn’t a relationship yet?

“Son.”

The stern voice pricked through the tense mood which enveloped the monster and human, but it was the glint of silver which made Emily flinch in startle while Sans narrowed his sockets at the sight of the pistol barrel aimed at him.

Edward stood tall as he glowered at Sans, his pistol held tightly in his grip, a finger resting against the trigger. His arm shook but it wasn’t because of fear or hesitation, just old age. “Step away from the girl.”

Emily quickly backed away when Sans released her wrist, the skeleton smirking. “She ain’t exactly a girl anymore, Eddie.” He shrugged, warily eyeing the firearm as he hid his nerves behind his fanged grin. 

This was unexpected… Why the pistol? How much did the old man see, or hear?

The young florist inched closer towards her boss with a held-out hand, her large eyes shooting between him and Sans, fearful of what may happen. “I-it’s okay, Mr. Franklin, really…”

“It’s far from okay from where I am standing,” Edward said with the same sternness, not taking his eyes off the skeleton as he continued to talk to her. “I told you to stay in the shop, Emily, for your own safety.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

He nodded upon hearing her apology before he inclined his head to the open dock doors. “Get inside. I need to have a little chit-chat with our landlord here.” He interrupted her before she could even ask the predictable question burning on her lips. “I won’t hurt him if he won’t give me a reason to, I promise. Now get inside, please.”

She threw a worried and scared glance to Sans, not receiving a reassuring reaction from him as he simply stood with a blank expression across his face, his grin fake. She shook her head before she hurried into the back room, not lingering to not make the matter worse. She could only hope for the best.

“Lookin’ dangerous with that peashooter there, Eddie,” Sans jested after he could no longer hear Emily’s footsteps, the old man lowering his gun with a frustrated sounding sigh after Sans obviously posed to be no threat. “What got yer suspenders in a twist? The little lady and I were only talkin’.”

“Sure, _talking_,” Edward grumpily repeated as he motioned with the lowered gun at Sans’ right hand. “Do you always talk by holding scared-looking women by their wrist and invading their personal space?”

Ah… Yeah, he can understand that may have looked wrong. Seems he wasn’t the only one who was willing to look after her. The chuckle which escaped him wasn’t fully appreciated by the old man.

“Let me get straight to the point, Sans,” the florist said as he tucked the pistol away. “You’ve been hanging around her more than I trust, and I rather not see it happen again.”

More surprises; this morning was full of them. “Ya tellin’ me to stay away from her?” He laughed at the thought. Even though yesterday’s plan was to stay away from the flower girl while he sorted out his mental mess and tangled up feelings, now it seemed ludicrous to do so. Besides, who is going to stop him? This old fella here, with his shitty little gun? Hilarious, though he could easily see Edward do it, or at least try. “She ain’t yer kid, Eddie.”

“She could well be,” he retaliated. “I don’t know what game you’re playing with her but you’ve rattled her enough as is. Every time you approach her, she ends up a mess. I am tired of seeing it, especially in my shop. I don’t want to lose a good employee because you can’t keep your perverted little urgings in check.”

Sans snerked in disbelief. Is this guy for real? Sure, he wasn’t exactly wrong but today was different; she actually enjoyed it and it didn’t end in a complete disaster. “Come on, ye’re lookin’ at this all wrong.”

Edward’s face hardened. “I beg to differ. You’re lucky you Gasters are in charge of this area and that you compensate me royally for my services; if you weren’t and didn’t, you’d already be a pile of dust I’d fertilize my flowers with.”

Bit extreme but he got the point. A big scary monster touched his precious make-belief daughter and now he’s an angry protective old make-belief dad. A good thing he didn’t walk in on them while his fingers were knuckle-deep inside of her; that measly pistol wouldn’t have sufficed. 

“I like yer enthusiasm, Ed,” Sans teasingly grinned as he waved away the fresh memories of fingering the woman he claimed as his own, looking far too confident in the current situation.

“Oh, piss off, Sans,” Edward grumbled with another gruff sigh, giving up on the lecture and threatening. “Just run along; your brother is waiting for you.”

And another bullet dodged. Sans kept the broad grin across his face as he rose a hand in understanding and walked inside, allowing himself to feel somewhat accomplished by not feeling the wrath of an old shopkeeper. Not that he was too worried about Edward pulling the trigger on him; he can say whatever, but he can’t hide he had grown to like his monstrous landlords, even with their shortcomings.

Now, where had she run off to? They weren’t done talking yet.

He found her in the shop, half-hidden behind the tall appearance of Papyrus after she had retreated behind the counter. Her face brightened up ever so slightly at the sight of him entering the shop alive and unharmed, though she was just as quick to look away with a torn expression, doubt reigning inside her pretty little head. 

When she instead started cleaning up the workbench, he took the hint. He’ll give her some space; she seemed a little upset and confused by what was said and done. Then again, it’s not every day you get an orgasm from a monster like him. He smirked at the boastful thought before he eyed his impatient looking brother. It wasn’t exactly the right time to talk about the delicate matter either, not with Papyrus waiting and Edward breathing down his neck.

He glanced back at the old man standing behind him, receiving a harsh glare in return as a chilling reminder to not bother his assistant shopkeeper any further. It was also a sign that it was time to go, and Sans agreed.

The bulky giant of a skeleton stepped forth with a nod before he grinned at his younger brother. “Talk went well?” he asked as he brushed by Papyrus to quietly indicate it was time to go, not wanting to overstay his welcome. It’s best his brother doesn’t find out he just got a gun pulled on him, and that he was knuckle-deep inside the woman who once kindly gave Papyrus a flower. 

He couldn’t resist winking at Emily after he turned the lock and opened the door, still full of himself and not believing he had done anything wrong. Her cheeks turned red upon the wink, a color he liked to see on her before he stepped out of the shop, finally taking his leave.

“OF COURSE IT WENT WELL,” Papyrus boasted after he tipped his fedora towards the two humans before following Sans outside, needing to duck to not hit the bell hanging above the door. “NO THANKS TO YOU, I MUST ADD. WHILE YOU WERE SLACKING OFF OUT BACK, I MANAGED TO GET THE JOB DONE, BY MYSELF.”

The loud voice trailed off and mixed with the sounds of traffic after the Gaster brothers crossed the street towards their car, their departure causing both florists to sigh but for different reasons.

Emily had to admit to herself she was nervous, not daring to face her boss after seeing him ready to use the gun she had seen him carrying before. He seemed genuinely concerned about finding her with Sans. Did he actually come to her rescue, even if a rescue wasn’t needed?

She carefully glanced towards the old man from the corner of her eyes as he returned to his stool and newspaper, acting as if nothing had occurred. This man has years of experience with pretending all is fine, hasn’t he? She envied how easy he made it look.

“We’ll have to find a different way to handle deliveries in the upcoming few days,” he suddenly said after he unfolded the newspaper and spread it to continue reading, sounding grumpy. “I won’t be getting a replacement for my truck until next week.”

A replacement? “What… exactly happened to your truck?” she hesitantly asked, far too curious for her own good. Did he lend it to the Gasters over the weekend? 

“It got stolen,” came his answer. 

It surprised her he indulged her at all on the matter after he was adamant to keep her out of any mafia-related business. “Stolen…?”

“Allowed our landlords to use it, and now it’s gone. I’m not happy about it, trust me. Gave the younger Gaster a piece of my mind when he told me about it; that truck was special, have had it for years.” He sighed, his voice growing less gruff while he stayed hidden behind the newspaper. “Betty… my wife painted the shop’s logo on the sides long ago. She really brought color into my life, bless her sweet soul. But now the truck’s gone thanks to our landlords being idiots. At least I still have the shop she adored…”

Another good thing ruined by a Gaster… Emily could sympathize.

“Don’t let them take anything precious from you either, you hear? I don’t know what is going on between you and Sans, and it isn’t my business, but you will be better off with anyone else than him.” He lowered the newspaper to look at Emily, seeing he had her attention as she looked flustered and thoughtful in his direction. “Like that William fellow. Best not to dip your toes further in this whole mobster mess. If this William, or any other guy, can give you a normal life, grab it with both your hands and don’t let go.”

She swallowed while she thought about the young man after Edward brought him up. Can she still go on a date with him after she allowed Sans to pleasure her? Fuck, why did she let it happen? Now everything felt wrong… How could she have been so stupid?

No verbal answer was given to his advice. She nodded as she turned away to continue working, or at least pretend she was working, her head full of many conflicting thoughts and distracting her. What was she going to do about this? What exactly was going on between her and Sans? In what way was she his? What exactly did he mean by that? 

_That jealous prick_, she thought as she angrily tore up a leaf, hating how she felt. The upcoming date is going to be very awkward, she just knows it.


	7. The Great Papyrus

The pavement was still wet from the earlier rainfall, a spell of bad autumn weather which Emily had managed to dodge by sheer luck. She stepped over a puddle as she walked down the street, peering from under the rim of her cloche hat at the piece of paper she held. A neatly wrapped bouquet rested in one of her arms, one of today’s deliveries. 

She didn’t know this neighborhood all too well, no matter that she grew up in this city. What she did know was that this area didn’t hold a too high reputation, and it showed. The many doors and windows she passed were either boarded up or broken, unsavory folk standing on street corners or sitting on balconies and windowsills. Nobody was seeking trouble, however, leaving her be while she tried to find the address written on a piece of paper. It should be around here somewhere, she was fairly certain of it. Then again, she’s probably wrong.

The “A Dozen Daisies For You” flower shop had yet to receive a replacement for the loss of its truck, but then it had only been but three days since Edward Franklin received the news. Until the Gasters brothers uphold their promise, the florist would rely on public transport and his shop assistant’s feet to make any deliveries. It worked well enough, though today was the first time she bumped into some trouble.

She hurriedly crossed the street, still uncertain where exactly she was headed. None of the street names seemed familiar and she did check a map at the shop beforehand. It was left of the bus stop, then a few streets down, take a right and another left; it was that simple. Did she get off at the wrong stop? She better not…

She slowed down when she passed a wall plastered with posters, many grey and black eyes either looking at or through her. Wanted and missing posters, all mixed together and there were a lot. Some old, many new. It made her heart sink into her stomach to know that many citizens of Edge City were either dead or disappeared into crime, be it willingly or not. She luckily didn’t recognize any of the faces printed on the wet pieces of paper, and she hoped it would stay that way.

Her eyes wandered to take in the surroundings as she continued on, telling herself she was well off in comparison to the people who lived here. Was it poverty or did the gang in charge of this area treat them poorly? High protection fees, no doubt… These poor people.

While she should consider herself lucky that her father’s job prevented him from paying the normal protection fee in the neighborhood, she didn’t. He was a corrupt cop, just like most of his colleagues, allowing mobsters and their Dons to do as they pleased within Edge City. It disgusted her… It’s quite ironic that the monstrous landlords of Edward were far more humane than the humans running this city. It makes one wonder who the real monsters are, doesn’t it?

And speaking of the landlords… Emily hasn’t seen them anymore since they came by the shop to talk with her boss. It suited her fine; a few days without any skeletons messing her up was a blessing, but there was no denying the weight in the pit of her stomach whenever she tried to ignore or think about what happened.

_Ye’re mine._

Those words haunted her for the past few days. She hated them. She hated how much pressure they put on her, how they make her shiver in fear but also a sickening longing. She hated that too, a lot. She can’t possibly have fallen for someone as inconsiderate and terrible as him, that asshole who excused his miserable behavior with a grin, and that he only does it to make her feel good. It surely didn’t start out that way; he didn’t pin her to the wall that time for her sake.

Besides, he’s a monster who smokes smelly cigars and dons himself with gold jewelry like a schmuck. There’s nothing appealing about that. So why is her soul yearning for him…? It has to be his magic, the whole strange soul touching business. It must have done something to her, why else would she feel this way about him? Or let him touch her. Pleasure her. Claim her?

Damn, her denial is strong. It even made her uncomfortable.

She frowned when further down the street she turned into were three expensive-looking cars, looking completely out of place in the drab surroundings. They were parked outside what she guessed was a bar or a club, yet there were no patrons around; the street was empty and quiet this late afternoon. She hesitated in her step yet continued walking, carefully clutching the bouquet firmer against her chest while mindful of the flowers.

Expensive cars like these, and in a neighborhood like this, usually hint on a gathering of mobsters. The Gaster brothers were a fine example of that, with their large red car which had no place in the trodden down streets of Edge City. One can consider it a calling card, or a warning.

Doubt bubbled up when someone wearing a suit stepped out of the club and lingered by the entry to light a cigarette, the bright color of yellow catching her eye. A yellow tie… How unusual. The color of the tie didn’t worry her, though; it was the fact an obvious member of the mafia was further down the street, and she didn’t want to provoke him by looking at him oddly or make him believe she’s doing so while she walks by. Neither did she want him to come over, strike up a chat with a lousy pick-up line and invite her in for who knows what; you don’t easily say no to a mobster, especially not as a woman.

_Try to act natural_, she told herself while keeping her eyes ahead of her, feeling nervous. Hopefully, it didn’t show… 

Keeping her gaze ahead proved to be difficult, especially when something peculiar became visible past the rim of her cloche hat after she passed a covered alley; something pale was hiding in the shadows. She wavered and turned her head to quench her curiosity and see what it was before she could stop herself, meeting a one-eyed glare which melted into a look of surprise upon seeing her.

Emily was just as surprised, the bright red of his scarf, the three scars and sharp angles of his skull not something she expected to see in this neighborhood. 

The “Great” Papyrus… Why was he here?

She didn’t get the chance to stop walking, or even utter his name, as one of his gloved hands catapulted forward from the darkness and grabbed her arm, taking her by surprise. She gasped in startle, the soles of her shoes scraping across the sidewalk and the wrapping of the bouquet crinkling as he yanked her into the alley, picking her right off the street.

The sounds caught the attention of the mobster standing outside the club, but apparently not enough as all he did was shrug and continue smoking after finding the street to be empty.

She held onto the bouquet with dear life, her mouth covered by musty smelling leather after Papyrus clasped a hand over her mouth and pulled her against him, his thin ribs and narrow hip bones poking into her back. She trembled while hardly able to gather her senses, not liking the closeness she was suddenly dragged into, not after what happened behind the flower shop but a few days ago.

She _really_ shouldn’t be blushing at this, but she couldn’t stop the warmth creeping into her cheeks.

The gloved hand stayed in place as a quiet indication for her to be silent, the unnaturally tall skeleton peeking around the corner to check if anyone had noticed a human getting pulled into an alley. 

He wasn’t rough or forceful like his brother, even though his bones were hard and she could make out the bony shapes of his fingers through the leather. His long arm which crossed her chest and the bouquet she held didn’t even touch her, acting like a held aloft barrier to keep her in place while his fingers lightly held her shoulder. But no matter the fairer treatment, it didn’t lessen her fear; her muscles were so tightly wound that she couldn’t move, even if she wanted to.

Is he going to hurt her?

She clenched her eyes shut when voices echoed through the street and crept into the covered alley, cheery sounding chatter before car doors slammed shut and engines rumbled to life. Papyrus pulled her ever so closer as he pressed himself against the wall when the sounds of the engines grew louder and nearer, three expensive-looking cars driving by the alley he was hiding in. He didn’t move until the car sounds had completely ebbed away, slowly removing his hand from the florist’s mouth while his whole posture relaxed.

He didn’t shove her or grab her as he guided her forward with but one hand on her shoulder, just a few small steps so he could slip free from between her and the wall. He didn’t say a word, neither looked at the befuddled but scared-looking woman, as he tugged on his gloves and jacket while eyeing the street. She could hear it though, a sound she had heard coming from him before; a thoughtful grumble.

“COME, HUMAN,” he suddenly said without even lowering the tone of his voice, the abrupt instruction and volume flinching her. He left her behind rather than pull her along as he waltzed further into the darkness, the top of his fedora nearly touching the ceiling with how tall he was.

Emily blinked as she looked after him, her lips firmly pressing into a thin line as she wasn’t certain what to do. She cast a glance back towards the light behind her, the street far more welcoming than the cramped darkness ahead. She could easily walk away, right? Though, from a Gaster? That has proven rather futile so far, hasn’t it? 

She huffed at the embarrassing reminder before she looked back into the darkness, no longer able to see Papyrus. She could hear his footsteps and they sounded distant. Fine then… She’ll listen, but only because she’s too scared and curious to do otherwise.

The covered alley smelled like mold, rain and piss the further she ventured into it, the buildings which formed this alley old and rickety. There was a hole in the wall once she reached the end of the alley, the bricks laying scattered across the ground and by what was left of the wall. Beyond the hole was an enclosed space, the faint dripping of water welcoming her. 

The flowers gently rustled and the wrapping crinkled as she stepped through the hole without getting her dress or coat caught behind the jagged edges of the bricks, listening carefully while her eyes tried to adjust to the dim light. She could still hear the skeleton walking ahead of her. Where on earth was she…?

The enclosed space was a room, the printed wallpaper damp and peeling off the walls. The ceiling wasn’t in a good condition either, the rafters visible where the plaster had cracked and broken off; some light shimmered through the cracks of the floor above. Broken, moldy and unsalvageable pieces of furniture decorated the room, a depressing sight.

She hurried through the room towards the hallway, droplets of what she assumed was dripping rainwater hitting the top of her hat from the damage above. She blinked her eyes against the sudden brightness after she rounded the corner to not lose sight of Papyrus or get lost, the end of the hallway she entered completely gone… just like the rest of this building. 

It was like someone built a house out of cake and cut a large piece off it. Only the bare bones of the foundations were visible, the back of the building having either caved into itself after a fire or from disrepair, or it was an unfinished construction site. She will assume the first rather than the latter guess with how worn down it looked.

The red of Papyrus’ scarf caught her attention after she traversed what was left of the hallway and carefully hopped down into a large open space, perfectly hidden between several buildings which looked old but were still intact. The skeleton glanced her way after she came into his view, his one-eyed gaze making her nervous.

“DON’T DAWDLE, HUMAN. YOU ARE KEEPING THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAITING.”

“R-right,” she quietly uttered as she hurried towards him, still not certain why she was following him and where he was leading her. She still had to make the delivery, though what was the point if she was lost? Following Papyrus was as fruitful as aimlessly wandering around this neighborhood to try and find the correct street.

Though, why did he even pull her off the street? It had something to do with those mobsters at the club, didn’t it?

She followed him closely this time, trailing after him through another narrow alleyway and past a broken gate until they arrived in another secluded area between the buildings, though this time they weren’t alone.

Several monsters were in the back alley, either leaning against or sitting on wooden crates, stacked pallets or garbage bins, their heads turning when Papyrus walked towards them with a poise which was intimidating and yet regal. They either straightened up or hopped off their improvised seats to greet him after he joined them, seeming nervous in his presence.

Did they know something about this tall skeleton that she did not? That was a worrying thought. She’d understand it if it were Sans, but not this skeleton who seemed intrigued by Surface flowers. Speaking of the much stockier brother, where is he? His grin should have been right next to her by now, or his cigar smell enveloping her.

“REPORT,” Papyrus firmly stated as he approached the small group.

“Seems the Yellow Ties are trying to do business in the area, boss,” one of the monsters spoke up, a canine holding a knife. “Overheard them talking about protection fees, payments, and ware exchanges. Don Asgore is offering opium and firearms to the humans.”

A long grumbly sigh escaped Papyrus through his narrow nose cavity, the look upon his skull face not all too pleased, perhaps also tired. Emily didn’t know the reason behind his disgruntlement but she didn’t need to; she was nervous already. She kept her head down and hid inside her hat as she stood quietly behind Papyrus, feeling out of place while she unwillingly listened to the conversation. 

Yellow ties. _Don_ Asgore? As in the name Don or the mafia boss title? He reeled her right into a mobster mess, didn’t he? Oh God… 

“Dogamy and Dogaressa already started tailing these guys to see where they’ll head next. They’ll meet up with you back home once they’re done.”

“EXCELLENT. ARE THERE ANY YELLOW TIES LINGERING IN THE AREA?”

The dog-like monster shook his head while playing with the knife. “Nah, they all hopped out at the same time. No stragglers as far as we know. Seems they have completed their business here for the day.”

“HAH, THE COWARDS. SEEMS THEY HAVEN’T TAKEN OVER THIS AREA JUST YET THEN.”

That didn’t sound so bad, Emily thought as she peeked past Papyrus’ arm at the monsters. Perhaps that also means she can soon continue with her delivery before the heavens open up again and the rain ruins the bouquet. The grey sky above sure hinted on more rain coming. 

“So, uhh, boss?” 

She lowered her gaze down from the clouds after hearing a soft “Nyeh?” slip from the tall skeleton upon hearing one of the monsters address him, noticing the monsters were staring at her in mild confusion but also intrigue.

“What’s with the human?”

Papyrus rose a brow plate, looking like he had forgotten about the woman standing behind him before he turned his head, his single red eye light homing in on her. He reached back and around her to urge her forward and lay a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to an honorary spot right beside him. His hand remained on her shoulder, not in a threatening way but in a strange sense of companionship which Emily couldn’t make any sense of. It made her cheeks glow.

“SHE IS ONE OF US,” he answered, the tone in his voice betraying he was serious and wouldn’t tolerate anyone questioning it. She did, however.

Her head turned so fast that it almost snapped her neck, her eyes wide in shock as she gazed up to the tall skeleton with her inner self angrily screaming at him in confusion. 

_Why_ on earth would he claim such a thing? When did she agree to be a part of the Gaster mafia? She never did! It’s already bad enough that Sans keeps dragging her closer towards it, so why did it have to be Papyrus to nudge her over the edge?

Her wide-eyed gaze turned to the monsters, each of them not looking all too sure about the delicate human woman standing beside the scary-looking skeleton. One of them had a dumb knowing smirk on his face, his grin insinuating something which made Emily even more uncomfortable than she already was. He quickly wiped it away after the monster beside him roughly and warningly elbowed him in the gut, his silent but visible thoughts obviously not appreciated.

She gave them a nervous smile while her internal screaming continued, knowing she best not make a scene, not while she is outnumbered. Whatever they are thinking, it isn’t true. At least not with this skeleton… 

Papyrus, on the other hand, didn’t seem too bothered by the unspoken opinions of his underlings and guest. “BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND,” he said with his usual loud spoken voice, oozing authority over the present monsters. “WITH THE YELLOW TIES GONE AND DOGAMY AND HIS WIFE GATHERING INTEL ON THEM, WE NO LONGER HAVE ANY BUSINESS BEING IN THIS AREA, OR EDGE CITY FOR THAT MATTER. RETURN TO SNOWDIN; I WILL MEET YOU THERE LATER TONIGHT.”

“Later? You’re not coming with us, boss?” There was actual concern present in the question.

“But we were told we’ve gotta stick together. If the big boss finds out you’re on your own…”

The lanky mobster lay his other hand lightly against his chest after he received an air of pride and importance, looking a little smug while he gently pulled Emily a little closer. “WORRY NOT, FOR I WILL NOT BE ALONE. I WILL TAKE IT UPON MYSELF TO SAFELY ESCORT THIS HUMAN WOMAN OUT OF THE AREA. I AM SURE HE’LL UNDERSTAND.”

_Wait. No, no no no no. No._

Emily lay a hand against Papyrus’ waist to force some distance between them, not too thrilled about getting saddled up with an unexpected chaperon. Her cheeks and ears turned redder and her eyes larger when the smirking monster from earlier muttered “nice” while he approvingly nodded, obviously having the wrong idea behind Papyrus’ intentions. She bit the inside of her cheek to not lose her calm, and stammered,” oh, no, you _really_ don’t have to.” Really, he didn’t.

“I DO,” Papyrus stated bluntly as he stepped forth and guided her along, her attempt to plant her heels down and lean back against his arm not slowing him down or release her. He simply carried on, which was apparently pretty comical as the monsters whispered and chuckled among themselves after they moved aside to let the skeleton and human through. None of them followed, instead going in the opposite direction to head back to the Underground.

Noooo, don’t leave her. Emily pressed her lips together when she saw the monsters retreat, leaving her alone with Papyrus. She really doesn’t want this; she has no good experiences with being alone with a Gaster. She is still not over what happened the last time. What if this Gaster does something worse?

“Please, you really don’t have to do this. I appreciate the concern, I do, but this is completely unnecessary,” she tried while eyeing the gloved fingers curled around her shoulder, his hold on her not lessening. “I don’t need to be escorted.”

“NONSENSE. YOU MAY HAVE THE WRONG IDEA ABOUT US MONSTERS, HUMAN, BUT WE LOOK AFTER OUR OWN,” he explained after brushing off her pleas, his one-eyed gaze turning to her while he guided her down the alley. “AND WHETHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT, THIS NOW ALSO INCLUDES YOU. A FRIEND OF EDWARD IS A FRIEND OF OURS.”

The dark red paint of the Gasters’ fancy car greeted them after they rounded a corner, the large Bentley hidden from sight in the deserted back alleys of this neighborhood. It wasn’t as polished as the times she caught a glimpse of it before, the car seeming to have taken some damage. An accident, or did it have something to do with Edward’s missing truck?

Papyrus opened the passenger door after finally taking his arm away from around her, motioning for her to enter the car. “I WILL TAKE YOU WHERE YOU NEED TO GO.”

Emily stared wide-eyed at the seat and the dark leather-clad inside of the car, nervously fidgeting with the ribbon of the bouquet she still clung to with dear life. This didn’t feel right… While she wanted to believe Papyrus had the purest intentions, his brother had ruined her trust in his kind. Still… this skeleton had proven to be different from Sans and treated her and Edward respectfully, if not a bit brass and forward at times. Maybe she should trust him, even just a little?

She almost looked shameful when she rose her gaze to meet his, stammering softly,” I-I don’t really know where I need to go.”

He didn’t seem to fully understand her while standing patiently next to the opened car door, intently listening to her with narrowed eye sockets.

“I was already lost when I came across you,” she admitted before she shifted the bouquet from her arm into her hands and slightly lifted it to bring it to his attention. “I need to deliver this bouquet to somewhere in this neighborhood… I think. Without his truck, Mr. Franklin relies on me to do the deliveries for him, but I have no clue as to where I am. Do… Do you perhaps know where this is?”

She searched the large pocket of her dark blue coat before fishing out the piece of paper with the written address, handing it to Papyrus. She felt incredibly silly to ask a monster of his stature for help, but she couldn’t help but feel relieved when he took the tiny piece of paper from her and read what was written on it, not mocking her.

“I DON’T, BUT THERE IS A MAP OF EDGE CITY IN THE GLOVE COMPARTMENT WHICH MAY PROVE USEFUL,” he said before leaning into the car to take the mentioned map out. He unfolded it while remaining bent over so she could have a look at the map alongside him, the woman hesitantly inching closer. 

She watched him while he peered at the map, his single eye light roaming across the lines and many tiny names to figure out in which part of the city they were currently in. He was oddly considerate of her, she wasn’t used to it, not with what his brother is like. This was nice… A faint smile crept across her lips as she slowly averted her gaze and instead looked at the map, searching with him for the street which Edward wrote down for her.

“There it is,” she sounded elated after she found it and pointed it out, though her smile died off when she realized it wasn’t anywhere nearby. Did she seriously get off the bus two stops too early? No wonder she couldn’t find it. This was going to be a long walk, unless… 

He read her mind, or simply had already made up his mind with the offer of granting her a ride, as he left her side while neatly folding up the map. “WELL, GET IN, HUMAN; IT’S STARTING TO RAIN,” he said plainly as he entered the car and slipped into the driver’s seat, a few droplets trickling onto the red rooftop and her hat after he brought up the bad weather. 

There was no declining his offer now, huh? Very well then, she’ll trust him. 

Emily wasn’t as confident as she pretended to be when she sat down in the passenger seat, closing the heavy door while Papyrus put the map away. The car faintly smelled of cigars and cherries, two smells she had grown familiar with. This was definitely Sans’ car, and she counted her lucky stars that he wasn’t here today. Where was he anyway?

She kept herself small to remain polite, the bouquet resting in her lap. “I expected your brother to be with you,” she eventually admitted after Papyrus started the engine and steered the long and large car out of the narrow alley it was parked in, trying not to sound too curious as she fished for Sans’ whereabouts.

“SANS IS ON SENTRY DUTY BACK HOME, OR HE SHOULD BE. THAT LAZYBONES TENDS TO SLACK OFF WHEN I AM NOT AROUND. WHY? DO YOU HAVE NEED OF HIM?”

“Oh, no, I just…” She huffed at herself and her rising nerves, wondering if she did have need for the broad skeleton. Perhaps _a_ need? No, best not think that way, not right now. “Every time I’ve seen you, you were together. I merely assumed that’s always the case when you’re in Edge City.”

Papyrus showed a hint of a smile while he carefully rubbed his right shoulder, his right hand remaining on the steering wheel. The sound of the gentle rain hitting the windshield and the rumbling of the engine filled the silence until he spoke with a nod,” WE USUALLY ARE, BUT WE AREN’T CONNECTED TO THE HIP; WE HAVE OUR OWN LIVES.”

“Of course,” she smiled. It would be silly if they were always together, wouldn’t it? Especially with how different they are. How close were they? She looked out of the window to not stare for too long while she tried to make her guesses about the bond between the two skeletons, her eyes trailing a few of the raindrops which crept down the window. 

Not a word was spoken for a while and though there was no reason to feel uncomfortable, she felt it swirling around her the longer the silence continued. She should say something… Perhaps get some actual answers rather than hold onto unconfirmed guesses.

“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, mister Gaster, but--”

“PLEASE, HUMAN. MISTER GASTER IS MY OLDER BROTHER,” he cut in, that air of importance surrounding him once more. “YOU MAY CALL ME THE GREAT PAPYRUS. OR PAPYRUS FOR SHORT.”

She’d rather not call him by that ridiculous title, at least not out loud, but Papyrus will do just nicely. If she had to be honest with herself, she was just happy to have this moment with him. “It’s nice to finally officially meet you, Papyrus,” she said kindly, indeed happy this was happening; it felt like a good step forward. “I am Emily Baxter, Emily for short.”

“EMILY?” He repeated her name as if to taste it and see how it rolled off the tongue, saying it rather awkwardly but she didn’t mind; it was already a big deal to her that a monster finally called her by her name. Maybe now he’ll stop calling her Human, but then… he still calls Edward as such, so maybe not. “NOT MANY GET TO BASK IN MY GREATNESS, SO THE PLEASURE IS ALL MINE. NOW, WHAT WAS IT YOU WANTED TO SAY, HU--EMILY?” He cleared his nonexistent throat at the little slip-up, unable to play it off smoothly though he tried. 

“I merely wanted to say that you are quite different from your brother.” _In a good way_, she thought to herself, not daring to say it aloud in the fear it might sound insulting.

He frowned upon hearing her, the so-called cogs inside his skull turning as he rolled the words around. She wasn’t sure why, but she definitely kicked off a long line of thought inside of him. “ARE YOU ACQUAINTED WITH SANS?”

“What…? Oh no, not exactly, no,” she quickly answered, trying not to stammer with the fluster which accompanied the embarrassing memories his question brought up. The truth of the matter was that they were but not like how she wanted them to be.

“I KNEW IT,” he grumbled, sounding disappointed. He didn’t look her way as he kept his eye on the street and traffic, the rain continuing to pour and making the surroundings look bleaker than they actually were. “HE IS HARASSING YOU, ISN’T HE? BE HONEST, HUMAN. I WON’T TOLERATE LIES.”

She stared at him in mild shock, her heart furiously beating in her chest. It was so loud in her ears, she was afraid he could hear it. She couldn’t find the words to say, or to think, her lips parting and closing with each failed attempt to form an answer. Her shoulders drooped and her expression grew softer to mimic the defeat she felt, saying softly,” it’s complicated…”

Her skeletal driver pondered what she shared, the rubbing of his right shoulder becoming firmer while his eye sockets narrowed. He was brooding something fierce, she could feel it radiating off of him and it scared her a little.

“WINGS WON’T BE HAPPY IF HE FINDS OUT,” he muttered, not saying anything more as he parked the car at the side of the road, not turning the engine off. He shifted in his seat and took his left hand away from his shoulder as he turned to Emily, looking at her with an intensity which made her want to grab for the door handle and yank it open to flee. She didn’t though, instead looking at him with her large discolored eyes while the rain continued to drum against the car. 

His gloved hand rested against the back of her seat, the tapping of a finger betraying he was still in deep thought. She could feel that small red glowing pinprick inside his unscared socket burning on her forehead, leering at the healing cut above her right eyebrow. She had no idea what his thoughts were, or what exactly he was feeling, not even when he met her gaze and softly sighed. All she could tell was that he was bothered.

“I AM NOT THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE APOLOGIZING TO YOU, BUT I WILL, FOR THE SAKE OF OUR PARTNERSHIP. MY BROTHER CAN BE STUPID, SHORT TEMPERED, GREEDY AND…” He sighed a little more disgruntled as he rubbed the spot between his brow plates. “A LOT OF THINGS, REALLY. HE DOESN’T ALWAYS THINK THINGS THROUGH. WHATEVER SANS HAS DONE TO YOU, I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE HIM.”

Emily slinked a little under his gaze, his apology conflicting her. This didn’t exactly help with her emotions and thoughts towards the skeleton who claimed her as his own, or her opinions on the Gasters in general. Yet, that someone as scary looking as Papyrus genuinely apologized for the ill behavior of his brethren is endearing; it made her less frightened of him. “You truly are different,” she said meekly, her smile just as weak. “You really care about your brother, don’t you?”

“I DO, THE BOTH OF THEM.”

There’s another Gaster? Oh boy… She blinked at the indirect reveal, unaware there were three of them. What was the other one like? Perhaps it is best if she never finds out. Though, it didn’t matter right now. There were far more important things at hand, more sensitive and deep.

“You’re right,” she said as she sat up, careful with the bouquet resting in her lap. “Sans is pushy, stubborn, intrusive and rough, but…” She shrugged as she called herself crazy for admitting it. “He has shown a good side to himself. Not a lot, but it is there. Somewhere.” Deep down, maybe. _Very_ deep down. When he is honest to himself.

Her expression softened at the memory of how he looked before he took his leave that morning at her home. It was the most fragile she had seen him, but it was proof that he wasn’t all tough and dastardly. Still, hard to believe when you recount all the shitty things he has done to her so far.

She smiled at Papyrus before she lightly touched his knee, ready to pull it back if he wasn’t appreciative of her small token of gratitude. “Thank you, Papyrus…” she said more confidently. “For caring.”

His usual narrow eye sockets grew slightly larger in mild confusion and surprise when he looked at her hand, staring at it for a moment before he stiffly nodded and turned away from her. “IT IS ONLY NATURAL FOR ONE AS GREAT AS I,” he said more loudly than usual, his hands back on the steering wheel. His single eye was no longer on her, instead looking at whatever was across the street. “RUN ALONG NOW,” he shooed her with a hand. “THOSE SURFACE FLOWERS WON’T DELIVER THEMSELVES.”

_He’s kicking her out?_ She swallowed as she didn’t fully understand before she looked out of the window to see where they were, the rain still pouring. He must not have liked her touching him… Stupid, why did she even--No wait. 

She frowned when she made out the number above one of the doors they were parked by, the number the same as the address Edward had written down. She threw an uncertain glance towards the lanky mobster, receiving nothing but silence from him as he kept his gaze deliberately diverted. 

Well, guess this is it then. She nodded encouragingly at herself before opening the door and stepping out of the car, taking in the long row of narrow but tall houses that were smushed together. She protected the bouquet from the rain with her open coat as she hurried over to the correct number, taking shelter in the doorway before knocking on the door.

The Bentley’s engine continued to purr, the skeleton not taking his leave. She couldn’t really see him properly through the rain covered windshield but she had a feeling he was watching. Perhaps to make certain she would be alright. She still can’t get used to the idea that there was kindness to be found within the mafia… And from someone like him, a scary-looking monster. 

A middle-aged woman opened the door, at first looking inquisitive at Emily before noticing the bundle of flowers after it was revealed to her. Seems this was the right address after all as the woman called back into the house for a man named John, the customer’s name written on the order. 

“Ohh, it’s lovely. I thought he’d forgotten, you see? Our anniversary? He did say I had something coming but I didn’t believe him,” the woman gossiped after she happily took the bouquet and admired it, her husband appearing beside her in the doorway. She gave him a loving smile after he lay his arm around her waist, the couple melting the florist’s heart.

This was why she loved working with flowers, why she wants to open her own shop someday. To deliver smiles like these, to make people happy.

“I’m glad I could help your husband keep his word,” Emily joked before she inclined her head in goodbye to the couple, the flowers already paid for when the order was placed. “Have a nice anniversary,” she wished them as she left the dryness of the doorway and hurried back to the car, relieved there was some happiness to be found in this city, even on a rainy and grey day like this one.

She opened the car door only slightly to stick her head in, looking a little hesitant at Papyrus. “Thank you again for driving me,” she gratefully said. “I don’t think I would have been able to make the delivery if we hadn’t found each other.”

He nodded in acceptance, waited and then glared at her, looking and sounding a little crass. “WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? TO CATCH A COLD? GET IN.”

This wasn’t a goodbye? She blinked as she stood perplexed before she slowly slipped into the car and closed the door, giving Papyrus an uncertain sideways glance. “Thank you,” she whispered as he drove back onto the road once the door was closed, feeling a little tense. She honestly thought he was done with her for today… Guess he meant it when he told the others monsters he wasn’t on his own and would escort her to safety. He’s sure saving her from the rain.

“SINCE YOU’VE RUN OUT OF FLOWERS, I’LL TAKE IT YOU WILL RETURN TO EDWARD? OR ARE YOU HEADING HOME? ”

“Back to the shop, yes. I still have a few hours left on the clock,” she explained while she brushed some droplets off her shoulders and the dark blue sleeves of her coat, not wanting to drip all over the car interior. 

The skeleton returned to gently rubbing his right shoulder after he took note of where she needed to go next, his gaze staying fixed on the traffic he steered the car through. 

Emily carefully observed him past the rim of her hat and bangs while she thought about how lucky she was to have a few more hours left at work. She can’t possibly let him drive her home; if her father would see her in this car, a monster’s car, he would be absolutely livid. She rather not think of how he will react…

Something dawned on her as she continued to watch Papyrus, clarity pressing through the dark thoughts which were trying to bring her down. His shoulder… He was rubbing it earlier as well. She sat up a little in her seat at the realization before she leaned his way, not getting too close but still close enough to bring her concern across. “Papyrus,” she asked to gain his attention as carefully as she could, not wanting to step on any toes. “Is something wrong with your shoulder…?”

“Nyeh?” The noise he made sounded a little distraught and more quiet than usual after he looked at her in surprise with a widening of his sockets. His hand dropped from his shoulder and returned to resting on the steering wheel, his expression and the aversion of his one-eyed gaze betraying he was flustered, just like when she touched his knee. “OF COURSE NOT. IT IS JUST A SMALL CRACK, NOTHING THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN’T HANDLE.”

A crack? Oh, of course… It’s easy to forget that he isn’t human, even with him having a skull for a head. It was all that was visible, his suit and gloves covering up the rest of his supposed skeletal body. Does that mean he and Sans fracture more easily than humans do? “What happened?”

“I GOT SHOT A FEW DAYS AGO.”

_Shot_? Emily looked at him with a mixture of shock, awe, and worry after he sounded serious but boastful, her blue and brown eyes resting on his shoulder. How bad is it? Does it hurt for a monster like him? Surely it does… And it happened only a few days ago?

Wait.

She looked away from Papyrus when she remembered something from Saturday night, trying to picture the moment she found the tear in Sans’ shirt. When she found it, he told her he had a bad day, a _very_ bad day. She was far too gone to make the connection then, her mind dazed by what was done to her soul then, but now… Was it a bullet hole? What on earth happened that Saturday? 

“Are you okay?” she asked as she lay a hand against his left arm, her concern flaring after the dots connected.

Sans’ craving for sympathy, the loss of Mr. Franklin’s truck, and now Papyrus’ collarbone or shoulder; it all happened during the same event on Saturday. Gangster business, no doubt, something she shouldn’t meddle with. But she can’t help it to be concerned about someone who had yet to show any ill intent towards her.

Papyrus groaned after he shot an inspecting glance at Emily’s hand, his usual stoic behavior receiving a nervous edge. He sighed after he deeply inhaled, his chest swelling and shrinking before he spoke. “IT IS ON THE MEND, THOUGH THE CHILL OF THE RAIN MAKES IT ACHE. THOSE YELLOW TIES FROM EARLIER?” He looked at her to see if she knew what he was talking about. “SANS AND I HAD AN ENCOUNTER WITH THEM THIS PAST WEEKEND. LET’S JUST SAY THEY HAD IT OUT FOR US.”

“Is that why you were spying on them?”

“ONE OF THE REASONS,” he admitted. “THE YELLOW TIES HAVE BEEN OUR ENEMY FOR YEARS NOW, EVEN BEFORE THE BARRIER WAS LIFTED. THEIR LEADER, ASGORE DREEMURR, IS UP TO SOMETHING IN EDGE CITY… MY ELDEST BROTHER, WINGDINGS, IS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT HE IS PLANNING, SO WE, AT TIMES, GATHER INFORMATION ON THE YELLOW TIES’ ACTIVITY ON THE SURFACE.”

A gang war which has been going on for more than five years… How old are the Gasters? Older or younger than her? How long had they been tangled up in this mobster lifestyle? Her head was already reeling the small taste she had during the past two weeks… To imagine longer feels like insanity.

“TRY TO STAY AWAY FROM ANY YELLOW TIE YOU COME ACROSS. IF THEY KNOW YOU HAVE TIES WITH US, BE IT ME OR SANS, YOU WILL BE IN DANGER.”

_Okay, sure, that’s not frightening at all._

Her gentle touching of his arm shifted as her fingers gripped for the black fabric of his sleeve and pinched it, her worry multiplying at the warning. No matter how hard she tried, she got involved in the end. The risks were piling up with every meeting between herself and the Gasters, with every little interaction. There was no escaping it anymore, was there?

The tall skeleton looked at her from the corner of his eye sockets after feeling her pull on his sleeve, not saying anything while he tried to read her. “I NEVER LIKED THE RAIN,” he suddenly said as he looked away from her and refocused on driving, the tone of his voice sounding a little forced. “IT’S WET, CHILLY, ANNOYING, AND GETS EVERYWHERE. LIKE BETWEEN THE BONES AND JOINTS. DISGUSTING. I CAN’T IMAGINE WHAT IT IS LIKE FOR A HUMAN.”

The change of subject threw her off, enough to push back the nerve-wracking feeling of being scared. She shifted in her seat and forcefully exhaled to shake off the weight pressing down onto her shoulders and stomach, wanting to follow his flow rather than work against it. 

“I like listening to it… and I enjoy the earthy smells once it stops raining.” She brushes a stray strand of hair from her face as she took in the bleak view passing by, still glad she was given shelter from the rain. “But yes, it’s unpleasant when it soaks you.”

Look at her, talking about the weather with a monster. And not just any monster; The Great Papyrus, one of the notorious Gaster Brothers. If it weren’t happening to her right now, she would never have believed it.

“THE WEATHER ON THE SURFACE IS UNPREDICTABLE. AT LEAST IN SNOWDIN TOWN, YOU KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT.”

Snowdin Town. The name rang a bell and not because it was mentioned earlier. She had heard of it before whenever people discussed the Underground, though did not know much about it. There was one rumor, however, which stuck with her. “Is it true it always snows there?”

“CORRECT.” He sounded proud and it made her smile.

“But how is that even possible? It’s underground. There shouldn’t be any type of weather down there… Is it… like magic?” Sans’ sultry whispers spooked through her head and nearly made her blush, but she firmly shoved them aside to not be distracted. “You monsters know magic, right? Is that how you experience weather effects down there? Or does it have something to do with winds or… water, or, or I don’t know, something?”

He looked stumped after she asked her questions, her curiosity overwhelming him a bit from the looks of it. “IT SNOWS,” he said bluntly after a moment of thought, obviously not knowing the answer. “IT SNOWS IN SNOWDIN FOREST AND IT IS HOT IN HOTLANDS. IT IS HOW IT IS.”

She snerked at the childish answer, though she won’t blame him for not knowing how it was possible. She was certain she wouldn’t know the answer either if she were in his shoes. She instead asked him an easier question. “What’s Snowdin like? Is it like Edge City or completely different?”

“SNOWDIN IS QUIET BUT PLEASANT. NOT MANY MONSTERS LIVE THERE, IT IS BUT A SMALL TOWN. THE SNOW ISN’T FOR EVERYONE; PEOPLE AND MONSTERS RATHER LIVE IN PLACES WHICH AREN’T AS COLD, LIKE WATERFALLS OR HOTLANDS.”

A little town… That did sound nice. Cold, but nice. It was better than this large, noisy and filthy city, that was one thing Emily was fairly certain of.

“SNOWDIN FOREST IS ONE OF THE FIRST PLACES HUMANS ENTERING THE UNDERGROUND WOULD COME ACROSS, _IF_ THEY SURVIVED THE RUINS.”

“You mean, before the Barrier was removed?”

“PRECISELY. TO KEEP THE PEACE, SNOWDIN FOREST USED TO HAVE THE MOST ACTIVE ROYAL GUARD FORCE IN THE UNDERGROUND. I, FOR ONE, USED MY CUNNING AND WIT TO AID THEM WITH TRAPPING HUMANS. FOR INSTANCE, WHAT BETTER LURE TO CATCH A HUMAN WITH THAN HUMAN FOOD?” He beamed with pride. “IT IS WHY I AM TRYING TO PERFECT MY LASAGNE RECIPE.” 

Her blue and brown eyes slowly turned towards the car lock when discomfort crept up her spine and made her sweat, not liking what she was hearing. _Trap_ humans? Was he serious? She is a human, and this monster trapped them?... With lasagne, the pasta dish? It sounded absolutely ludicrous, but there was a reason as to why there was a Barrier in the first place; the monsters were sealed inside the Underground for a reason. 

He saw her tense up and picked up on her internal panic after he took a moment to observe her. He dismissively wove with his left hand as he chuckled under his breath, saying reassuringly,” THERE’S NO NEED TO CAPTURE HUMANS ANYMORE NOW THAT THE BARRIER IS GONE. ALL THAT IS IN THE PAST; COOPERATION WITH THE HUMANS IS WHAT MONSTERS DESIRE THESE DAYS. TAKE ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FOR INSTANCE.” He gestured to himself to be in her full focal point while he continued to brag. “I MAY STILL BE PERFECTING MY LASAGNE RECIPE, BUT I ONLY PREPARE IT FOR MY BROTHERS AND FRIENDS. IT IS HUMAN FOOD, BUT IT IS GOOD FOOD. ESPECIALLY WHEN MADE BY MYSELF.”

But why were the monsters capturing humans? Because they were trespassing into the Underground or was there more behind it? History classes in school never went into depth about the events which caused the Barrier to be formed.

Emily rubbed her hands together as she pressed them against her lap, still feeling a little nervous about the whole “trapping” business. She wanted to believe with her whole heart and soul that monsters no longer indulged in such practices, that they truly wanted peace. She wants peace…

“I never had lasagne before,” she said after telling herself to lay more trust in Papyrus, the skeleton having yet to do anything wrong towards her. 

“YOU ARE MISSING OUT, HUMAN. IT IS THE BEST HUMAN DISH, DON’T BELIEVE OTHERWISE. EVEN MY BROTHER LOVES IT AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING, AS MUSTARD IS HIS FAVORITE HUMAN FOOD.”

Her crooked smile grew a little warmer and softer. “Mustard…?”

Papyrus scoffed, a look of disgust washing over him. “YOU LAUGH, BUT HE DRINKS IT FROM THE BOTTLE, OR EATS STRAIGHT OUT OF THE JAR. IT IS REVOLTING.”

And here she thought he really liked cherries. It must just be the flavor of his cigars then. Mustard, though… Without anything else? How odd. Is human food _that_ special to monsters? What is monster food like then?

“Well,” she said as she turned a little in her seat to look at Papyrus. “I wouldn’t mind tasting your lasagne someday. It must be really good if it could… lure… humans.” She tried to sound like she was jesting but it only came out awkwardly. She laughed it off, nervously. “Maybe you can bring some when next you visit the shop?”

He brightened up like the sun, very much unlike the current weather outside the car. “I LIKE THAT IDEA. AND, PERHAPS, YOU CAN REPAY ME WITH ONE OF THOSE RED SURFACE FLOWERS.”

“A carnation?” She looked at his jacket, or more specifically, the lapels of it. She didn’t expect him to keep the flower she gave him, but it made her happy that he wanted another one. Flowers really are magical, in their own little way. She pulled her shoulders up to huddle into them, saying with a wide smile,” you can have as many as you like.”

He smiled back at her, his jagged maw and sharp cheekbones still a terrifying sight to behold, but she was growing used to it. She can’t imagine this skeleton to harm a fly, let alone a human. She will quietly hope his past attempts to capture a human were all unsuccessful and that he isn’t a violent mobster. Today though, the Great Papyrus is her chaperone and acquaintance, perhaps even a friend after this day.

Friends with a monster… She smiled as she returned to looking outside while Papyrus drove her back to the flower shop, liking the thought.


	8. Brother Knows Best

The snow crunched under the soles of his shoes, the path beneath the white chilly blanket hardly visible, but he knew where to place his feet. The thought that the snow needed to be cleared crossed his mind, but it was a thought for later; other things were of better interest and more pressing.

Papyrus was tired when he entered his home and closed the door behind him, his joints popping and his bones whining as he stretched and rolled his neck while undoing his jacket. This was a long day, the skeleton had been up and about since morning to deal with important matters, the evening late. The day went as he expected, aside from the little detour towards the end that brought a little change in plans. Not an unpleasant change, mind, but still a delay of sorts.

Friendship shouldn’t be considered a liability but to Papyrus, it was while handling business. He can’t afford to lose his focus or be distracted in this kill or be killed world. Not to mention that he is the responsible one, the young Gaster with big shoes to fill, the boss to his underlings. And yet, this human woman quietly tiptoed into his little bubble and changed that line of thought by just being… well, herself, a human. She was a distraction, he agreed with this fact, but he also didn’t mind it, to his own surprise.

He enjoyed himself during their walk and ride. He felt important and validated after he noticed she was listening to whatever he had to say, that she took his advice rather than brush it off, or that she didn’t indulge him out of fear. She wasn’t an underling or family, neither a business partner or a rival. As he told her without much thought, she is a friend. 

The meaning of the word didn’t sink in until after he dropped her off at the flower shop and she smiled at him. She wasn’t repulsed or scared, neither did she hurry inside to get away from him the moment she left the car. Instead, she patiently waited and wove him goodbye when he drove away, seeing him off as if she actually cared. It confused him.

Humans can be puzzling. He pondered the mystery during the long and lonely drive back to Mount Ebott after dropping Emily off at the shop, not lingering in the city to stick with the instructions to not be alone on the Surface. The return to the Underground was without peril, giving him the chance and time to let all that was said and done sink in.

To not be looked upon with disgust, distrust, and terror by humans from the Surface was refreshing. To receive gifts, compliments, and smiles from them was confusing but remarkably pleasant. She even dared to touch him and it was no accident either; she knew what she was doing. For a split second, he wondered if she was trying to trick him into letting his guard down but it was nothing of the sort.

What is he going to do with these thoughts, wonders and little feelings? He didn’t know, but there was one thing he was certain about; he needed to have a word with Sans about how he’s been treating the Gasters’ new human friend. 

The talk had to wait, however, as other matters required his attention first. 

As soon as Papyrus returned to the familiar and safe grounds of Snowdin, he met up with his fellow mobsters to gather any remaining updates on Asgore’s activity on the Surface, though he didn’t receive any new and noteworthy intel which could prove useful. He had enough to pass onto Wingdings, and secretly hoped that his eldest brother would be appreciative of what he managed to accomplish this day.

Wingdings’s mood had been less than pleasant these past few days. The loss of the Slums, drugs and firearms left a big dent in whatever plans he was cooking up. He didn’t vocally complain, it wasn’t in his nature to do so, but his brothers could feel his frustration seeping from his office whenever they were near it; the eldest Gaster was obviously livid, and tried drowning his annoyances in more work and plotting.

And then there was Sans, a complete opposite.

The sigh Papyrus released held a hint of disappointment when he found his brother lying sprawled out on the couch, a cushion resting across his face. His vest and tie lay frumpled across the backrest, his suspenders undone. The ashtray on the coffee table was nearly filled to the brim with grey and red ash and a few thick ends of smoked up cigars, the pungent sweet and yet bitter scent of cigar smoke lingering in the lounge.

It seemed his big bother was asleep, or he guessed he was as he didn’t throw a stupid knock-knock joke or some dumb remarks at him in greeting, his large body unmoving and his face hidden underneath the cushion. Papyrus could already guess that Sans felt too lazy to go upstairs and sleep in the comfort of his bed after he returned home from his sentry duties. It happened more often than not.

What is it with his brothers and their love for sleeping on sofas? 

Although annoyed by finding Sans this way, Papyrus couldn’t be bothered to lecture him, let alone wake him. It was late anyway… And, at this hour, it was a safe bet that Wingdings was still up and about. He should tell him how the venture to the Surface went rather than getting worked up about Sans and his questionable behavior.

Papyrus steered himself towards the back of the house after he hung up his jacket and fedora, his red scarf hanging loose around his long neck. The house was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the entry hall and the lounge shining against Papyrus’ back as he made his way down the hall, heading for the door at the very end. He noticed it stood slightly ajar, a sliver of light seeping through the crack and beckoning him closer.

He could easily just walk in, but Papyrus has lived long enough to know that such casual behavior doesn’t go over well with Wingdings, no matter that they are brothers. Wings was very particular with his privacy and personal space, always had been. So, Papyrus did what he always does; knock.

The tapping against the door was soft and betrayed his hesitation to disturb the occupant of the office, his jaws clenching as he waited with a stiff spine for a sign, hopefully a good one. Not a sound followed the requesting knocks, at least not for a few long seconds, until a mutter could be heard. It was the usual mutter and it prepared the lean skeleton enough to know what to expect after he opens that door.

The large desk was the first piece of furniture to greet him, a few small towers of books and stacks of papers littering the counter. Several mugs and cups balanced dangerously on the stacks and piles of books, and Papyrus could already guess most of them weren’t even empty. Behind the books and papers was the smooth pale face of the eldest Gaster sitting hunched over a large notebook. He was furiously scribbling onto the lined pages with a black pen, his writing nothing but tiny symbols no human would be able to make sense of.

While the desk was a downright mess, the center of it was cleared out enough to grant him some space, although his arms and elbows still rested on pieces of paper and several open notebooks. The horn of the candlestick telephone lay off the hook, a clear sign he has been very busy this day and no longer wished to be disturbed.

He didn’t look up from writing after Papyrus stood before his desk, instead waving his left hand to tell Papyrus to grab a chair and have a seat. It wasn’t until he reached for the nearest mug and attempted to take a sip of coffee, that he rose his pale purple eye light from the strange little symbols and peered into the mug with a scrutinizing look. Empty, by the looks of it, the long tired sigh he released a confirmation of it.

The mug was placed back down with a not so gracious thump, though it served nicely with taking his attention away from the paperwork and to his youngest brother. He slowly blinked his sockets as he sat up and ran one of his hands across his face, asking,” what news do you bring?”

“ASGORE IS PLANNING TO OVERTAKE CLOVER YARD,” Papyrus reported without missing a beat, not letting his brother’s cold behavior bother him; it was nothing new. “WE OVERHEARD HIS MEN DISCUSSING TERMS WITH THE SAFFRON SIERRA CLUB, USING OUR STOLEN WARES AS BARGAINING CHIPS.”

Another sigh, though this time it sounded frustrated and disgusted. “👌☹✌💧❄☜👎 👌☹☜✌❄✋☠☝ 👌✌💧❄✌☼👎…” he mumbled under his breath and behind his hand as it rested over his mouth, the skeleton looking pensive. “Leave it to Asgore to go even lower than anticipated,” he continued in the normal tongue after he leaned back in his chair. “Granted, he played the cards he stole from us well… Did the Saffron Sierra agree to their terms?”

“FROM WHAT WE GATHERED, THE HUMANS ARE CONSIDERING TO CHANGE ALLEGIANCES BUT HAVE YET TO ACCEPT.”

“We have a chance then, especially with the alcohol we have in our possession. If we can snatch Clover Yard before Asgore does without a turf war, we have a decent chance of recovering from the loss of the Slums. The area is slightly larger and in greater disrepair than Lowtown but it should be manageable, especially if the people there are desperate.”

“SPEAKING OF THE SLUMS.” Papyrus carefully interrupted. “DOGAMY AND HIS WIFE KEPT TABS ON THE YELLOW TIES AFTER THEY LEFT CLOVER YARD. UNFORTUNATELY, THEY HAD TO GIVE UP ON THEIR PURSUIT AFTER THE TIES RETREATED INTO THE SLUMS. IT SEEMS THEY UPPED SECURITY ALONG THE BORDERS AND ENTRY POINTS.”

Wingdings nodded. “As expected. Not to worry, I’ve found a suitable candidate to infiltrate Asgore’s ranks. As soon as they are settled in, they’ll keep us updated on Asgore’s activity on the Surface.”

Papyrus remained silent, not wanting to vocally express his hope, let alone other thoughts. Although the events of this day proved to be useful, it still felt like they hadn’t made a single step forward. 

Wingdings was heavily set on gaining the trust and respect of the humans, yet the humans they have actual good connections with are few and hardly of any influence, like Edward Franklin. Tony Adler was nothing but a stepping stone which Wingdings was already planning to be rid off once the Gasters had fully overtaken the Green Needles ranks, and the same fate awaits several other dons Wings is holding negotiations with. At least he is trying to win over the human civilians of Edge City with believable protection fees and some charity work.

“I know you won’t bring it up, so I will do the honors,” Wingdings suddenly spoke after a while of uncomfortable silence, his words making Papyrus frown in mild confusion and curiosity. “You didn’t return with the others and, other than Dogamy and Dogaressa, everyone was accounted for. Meaning, you were on your own. Didn’t I give you and Sans the explicit order to not wander the Surface alone?”

His pointy jaws tightly clenched and, although he tried not to, his usually narrow eye sockets grew slightly in size upon hearing the smooth-faced skeleton. “YES, YOU DID,” Papyrus confirmed as he slowly balled his hands on top of his knees. “BUT UNDERSTAND, BROTHER, WHILE I AM WELL CAPABLE OF TAKING CARE OF MYSELF, I WASN’T ON MY OWN.”

“Indeed. Doggo told me you were with a human woman and ventured off with her hanging from your arm.”

_Oh_. Papyrus didn’t expect that piece of information to be passed on to Wingdings. 

“Now, I expect such behavior from Sans; he likes to mess about just to spite me, but you?” He sounded disappointed and even tutted to lay it on a little thicker. “I expected more decorum from you, Papyrus. You usually aren’t so easily swayed or tempted by the… fairer sex.”

A fluster washed over the half-blind monster when he understood what Wingdings was insinuating, his soul shriveling at the embarrassing but provocative thought. “YOU ARE ASSUMING INCORRECTLY,” he quickly objected, trying to stay collected and not think much further about it. He instead stared at his fists, choosing his words carefully. “THE HUMAN WOMAN IS EMILY BAXTER, EMILY FOR SHORT; SHE IS EDWARD FRANKLIN’S ASSISTANT.”

“Is that so…?” Wingdings asked with feigned overdone interest as he picked up his notebook and pen, noting something down while he made himself comfortable in his chair. “The florist’s little helper. That does explain the red flower you were wearing not too long ago. I already wondered what that was about…” He sounded thoughtful as he mused out loud, appearing to settle on a thought which didn’t help with Papyrus’ flustered state.

Surely he wasn’t assuming that the florist’s assistant was his sweetheart? Sans asked him the same not too long ago.

“Nevertheless,” Wingdings continued after receiving no response from his brother. “Edward’s shop is in the Lowtown district and you were supposed to be in Clover Yard today.” He paused to pluck through his thoughts before he looked at Papyrus with a face of utter disgruntlement. “Please don’t tell me you met up with the human in secret, and then abandoned the others to spend some alone time with her…” 

Papyrus raised his gaze just in time to see Wingdings rub his temple after he looked back down at his notebook, disappointment reigning in his doing. His right hand was in continuous motion as he kept on writing, the pages not visible to a flabbergasted looking Papyrus. Was he taking notes about _this_?

Well, it seems he was indeed assuming that Papyrus has a human sweetheart now, or at least has a big enough interest in her to desert his comrades for her affection. Which he didn’t.

“YOU ARE MISTAKEN,” Papyrus corrected him sternly, sounding defensive. He didn’t like the embarrassment he felt wrapping around his soul, and it didn’t lessen when he began to explain himself and what exactly occurred. “SHE WAS ON AN ERRAND, DELIVERING SURFACE FLOWERS TO CUSTOMERS. WE UNEXPECTEDLY CROSSED PATHS WHEN I WAS STAKING OUT THE SAFFRON SIERRA. IT TURNED OUT SHE WAS LOST AND I DECIDED TO AID HER AS SHE WORKS FOR AN ALLY; IT SEEMED ONLY RIGHT. THIS WAS DECIDED UPON _AFTER_ THE YELLOW TIES TOOK THEIR LEAVE FROM CLOVER YARD. ONCE THE HUMAN MADE HER DELIVERY, I DROPPED HER OFF AT EDWARD’S SHOP AND IMMEDIATELY RETURNED TO SNOWDIN.”

“And that’s it?” Wings sounded suspicious.

“CORRECT.”

Wingdings shook his head before he turned his chair to reach for another mug, one of his long fingers hooking behind it to tip it forward. He peered into it before leaving the mug be, his search for coffee once more reaching a dead end. “How charismatically noble and great of you, Papyrus,” he mumbled as he pushed himself up, looking annoyed but most of all, tired. “Let me make something clear, and you best listen because I won’t repeat myself after today. The woman has nothing of value to offer other than that she works at our storage place in Lowtown. If she doesn’t mean anything to you, then she is a distraction and a liability. Don’t waste our time on her; we can’t afford it.” 

Papyrus relaxes his hands and flexed his fingers while the palms pressed down against his knees, the skeleton channeling his frustrations into the small motions to prevent it from showing on his face. Wingdings was assuming and asking a lot, and it was safe to say that Papyrus wasn’t agreeing with whatever his brother was thinking or implying. 

The human wasn’t just a nameless face in the background anymore, not to Papyrus at least. He had a feeling it was the same for Sans, especially after what she told him. _Complicated_, she said as an answer to his question about her acquaintanceship with his brother… It was a word with many meanings. 

What exactly has been going on between the two? They’ve only met maybe three times, haven’t they? The meetings at the shop were fairly short, Papyrus remembered that much, so she and Sans couldn’t have gotten to know each other that well. And yet, it seemed like they did, in some way… What have they been doing while he wasn’t around or looking?

His detective work came to a halt when Wingdings stepped away from his desk, wandered towards the sofa and slumped onto it with an exhausted sigh, his now closed notebook resting on his chest. He buried himself away in the thick collar of his knitted turtleneck sweater before returning to running a hand across his face, tracing the two long cracks which defiled his porcelain-like skin.

“Sans is getting more unreliable and rebellious by the day for who knows what reason; I can’t have you do the same. I need you to be the responsible one, like you always have been. Can you do that for me, Papyrus?”

He allowed himself a few seconds to think it over. Though the youngest of the Gasters, Papyrus was always the one to fall in line, to follow the rules, to be a good example and take on all the responsibilities which weren’t related to the gang. He didn’t know any better, it has been like this for as long as he could remember. He started running after Sans and lecture him early on, and was always eager to appease Wingdings, to gain his respect and approval. Even now, all these years later, it was the same, though with less excitement. But… did he need to be the responsible one this time around?

“OF COURSE. YOU CAN RELY ON ME, BROTHER,” he eventually answered, his single eye light turning towards the door as the desire to leave began to grow.

Wingdings seemed pleased enough with his answer as he closed his sockets and sunk a little further away into the sofa, sighing more softly this time around. “Good,” he said, unaware his brother felt uneasy. “I hope you will remember your promise, for you and Sans will be heading to the Surface again in a few days; I managed to obtain a truck to clear our little debt with Franklin. It should be enough to make amends.”

A few days. A good thing he was told this in advance; he has a promise to keep to the human, and that promise takes a little time to prepare because good lasagne takes effort. Though, he best not let Wingdings know, not after the whole “no distractions, be responsible” warnings and talk. He can still be responsible while upholding all the promises he made.

He finally stood up to take his leave after Wingdings’s head almost got swallowed up by the thick collar of his knitted turtleneck sweater, seeming close to dozing off. He had one final thing to say, however, and it made Papyrus withhold on a sigh. “I noticed our brother has been on the sauce, to put it delicately. If you are going to lecture him about it, do take it elsewhere. I am in no mood to hear you bicker while I try to rest.”

Well, that’s enough of Wingdings for today; Papyrus gladly excused himself while he walked to the door, soon closing it behind him. If it isn’t Sans who gets on his nerves with his little habits and attitude, it’s Wings… and speaking of Sans.

The large but stout skeleton was awake when Papyrus entered the lounge, his round skull resting in a hand. He looked confused upon hearing Papyrus and seeing the incredibly tall monster stand beside the couch, the small red pinprick in his right eye socket resting on him with burning prejudice.

Sans showed a hint of nerves underneath Papyrus’ scrutinizing gaze before he dropped his head, chuckled wryly and then leaned back to lay his arms across the backrest of the couch. “Well, if it ain’t my favorite little brother.” He grinned widely, a dusty pink color present across his cheekbones; he was tipsy… or drunk, Papyrus wasn’t too certain yet. 

How much of that stuff did he devour this time? Papyrus could see an empty jar and two bottles standing on the floor next to the couch, the cigar smell almost shrouding the spiced scent of mustard, but it was there. Seems Wingdings was right; Sans had been “on the sauce”. Did he drink on the job or did he visit Grillby’s club after he finished his sentry shift? Maybe both? He obviously drank at home, but why? What was the reason this time?

“I AM YOUR _ONLY_ LITTLE BROTHER, SANS.”

“Ain’t that a good thing? It makes ya automatically my favorite,” Sans snickered before he huffed when no smile was in sight, his brother not seeming to be amused. “Ya look like ya’d a lousy day, Paps. I figured ya’d be havin’ a good time on the Surface with how late ya got home.”

“A GOOD TIME IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT,” Papyrus sighed as he glanced towards the hallway, thinking about what Wingdings told him.

“Ooh?” Sans suddenly seemed to be very interested, though his grin gave away his intoxicated mind was going in the wrong direction. “Did the Great Papyrus finally seek out a Great Time for himself? Took ya long enough.”

Papyrus cringed at Sans’ teasing and his loud boisterous laughter, hissing to him,” LOWER YOUR VOICE; YOU’RE BEING FAR TOO NOISY.”

He didn’t seem to get it at first, his laughter carrying on until he became aware of the fouler growing glare Papyrus shot him. He unsurely chuckled and slowly rose a brow plate before he looked back over a shoulder towards the hallway, finally understanding what was up. “He sleepin’?” he asked, the joy in his voice gone.

“HE’S ABOUT TO. HE IS IN A MOOD, SO WE SHOULD TAKE THIS CONVERSATION UPSTAIRS, OR OUTSIDE.”

“Outside? Heh, nah, I ain’t draggin’ myself out in the snow again just to talk. I’ve spent enough time outside and in the cold today.”

“YES, WOE IS YOU... YOU GOT THE EASIEST TASK POSSIBLE, HOW HORRIFYING.”

Sans scoffed at Papyrus’ sarcasm. “It sure took me long enough to warm my bones after,” he muttered as he ran his ecto-tongue across his teeth and eyed one of the bottles on the floor, seeming to contemplate something, though his brother caught onto it.

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, SANS; YOU’VE ALREADY HAD ENOUGH OF THAT VULGAR STUFF,” he angrily lectured and crossed his arms over his chest. “WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU LATELY? YOU ARE DRINKING MORE THAN USUAL, NOT FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS, THROWING TANTRUMS OVER NOTHING, AND BREAKING THE RULES. IT’S GETTING WORSE BY THE DAY.”

The somewhat drunken skeleton tauntingly looked at him when he was told not to have more mustard, though the harsh expression softened ever so slightly after he listened to the lecture. He took his arms off the backrest and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thick knees, saying with a shrug,” it’s complicated.”

Complicated. 

Papyrus’ eye sockets narrowed upon hearing that word, his thought dwelling to what he talked about with the human. He couldn’t be certain if Sans was talking about the same thing, the whole complicated relationship, but he’s going to find out, one way or another.

“THEN YOU BEST TRY AND EXPLAIN IT TO ME, UPSTAIRS,” he said and pointed towards the stairs. “WE CAN DISCUSS THE MATTER IN PRIVATE THERE.”

“Fuck, Pa--”

“_LANGUAGE_.”

“Shit, Paps,” Sans retaliated childishly and gave his brother a defiant glance, ignoring the sigh Papyrus huffed. “Is this really necessary? What do we even have to discuss? All’s fine as far as I know, all’s well in this shitty world. Besides, I’m quite comfortable here, I might just continue my nap.” He patted the cushion while he maintained eye contact, his sarcasm not appreciated but he didn’t look like he cared… until Papyrus lumbered towards him with an icy cold glare.

The unnaturally tall skeleton loomed over him before he bent down and snatched the edge of his shirt’s collar, tugging on it like a dog owner pulling on a bad dog’s leash. “SANS.” The tone of his voice was threatening and chilling, the look in his unscarred socket showing he meant business and rebuked the glare and snarl Sans gave him. “I HAVE HAD A LONG DAY AND IT IS LATE. I AM TIRED AND JUST DEALT WITH WINGDINGS’ NITPICKING NONSENSE. I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TO HEAR YOU WHINE AND ACT LIKE A CHILD WHILE YOU HAVE HARDLY DONE ANYTHING TODAY. SO GET YOURSELF UPSTAIRS OR I WILL GIVE WINGS A REASON TO GET UP FROM HIS NAP AND DISCIPLINE YOU.”

He could hear Sans’ sharp teeth lightly clatter when he tightly clenched his jaws and his snarl grew larger, the broad skeleton shivering with held back anger. A wisp of red smoke rose from his left eye socket, glowing from the growing intensity of his eye light, but instead of shoving Papyrus back, shout at him or give him a taste of his knuckles and golden rings, he simply disappeared with a growl.

Papyrus sighed as he stood half bent over the empty couch and his hand void from a shirt collar, hearing rummaging upstairs after Sans teleported away. The irritating sound of chair legs dragging across the floor made him drop his hand before leering at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable thunk of the chair getting roughly placed down in the room above. He didn’t even flinch when it happened, the sound loud as the rug couldn’t dampen it.

Such a damn child when drunk. At least the mention of Wingdings kept him calm enough to not act on his aggression. Let’s hope it stays that way.

  


Sans was already waiting for him in his room when Papyrus made his way upstairs, the broad skeleton sitting backward in a chair with his arms crossed over the backrest. His head felt heavy from the mustard’s spices and so it rested on his thick arms, the drunken haze buzzing through his skull. His frustration didn’t help with it either, making him agitated. He glared at his younger brother when he came inside and sat down on the bed, not even undoing his gloves.

“So, I’m upstairs,” he muttered from behind his arms. “Whatcha want, Paps?”

He didn’t answer straight away, instead looking around his own room as if to check if all was in place after Sans dragged the chair around. He didn’t keep Sans waiting for too long, though, his single eye turning to him. “I MET EMILY TODAY.”

Wait, why is he bringing up the flower girl? Sans furrowed his brow plates, his mind too groggy and slow to make proper sense of things, the confusion weighing him down even more. He squinted his sockets while the cogs in his head started turning, saying in a questioning tone,” ya weren’t going to Eddie’s shop today.”

“SURPRISED YOU REMEMBER… BUT YES, I WASN’T. WE WERE STAKING OUT THE CLUB IN CLOVER YARD AND THE HUMAN WAS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD FOR AN ERRAND. SHE WAS A LITTLE TOO CLOSE TO THE STAKEOUT WHEN WE CROSSED PATHS. I MADE CERTAIN TO ESCORT HER TO SAFETY AFTER ASGORE’S MEN CONCLUDED THEIR BUSINESS AT THE CLUB, AND GAVE HER A RIDE BACK TO A DOZEN DAISIES.”

Sans’s scrutinizing gaze almost drilled a hole through Papyrus when he plucked through what was said, having picked up on something peculiar. Papyrus didn’t say ‘we’ when he spoke of escorting the female florist; he said ‘I’. Did that mean he was alone with her, in _their_ car? Seriously? He felt the bitter and nauseating sense of jealousy swirling in the depths of his so-called gut, his squinted sockets narrowing; he didn’t like that thought, at all. 

“Ya didn’t try anythin’ funny with her, did ya?”

Papyrus scoffed. “UNLIKE YOU, BROTHER, I KNOW HOW TO KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF.”

That sounded accusing… Sans had a hard time focusing but he picked up on the tone in Papyrus’ voice; he knew something and it made Sans nervous with wonder. What exactly did he know, and how much? Did he see or hear anything? Did his little lady talk and spill the beans about their forbidden little endeavors? Shit, he should have joined Papyrus today… Why did he get saddled up with watching the borders instead?

Not that he was eager to see her. Well, he was, but at the same time, he’d rather not see, hear, feel, taste or smell her. Their last two meetings messed him up good, his feelings tangled up into a messy ball he tried to unravel to no avail. He claimed her, vocally. Announced it to her with confidence, pride and greed, no matter her opinion or thought on the matter. He figured if he did it, he would be in control of the situation and how he felt, and it did seem to be working… for a day or so.

He tried to drown the following insecurities and nagging thoughts with mustard, the only human food which can intoxicate him and that his soul could muster without harshly expelling it from his being. He has been the toughest of the Gasters for years on end, a threat others take seriously; his reputation exceeds him, monsters and humans alike fear him. There is hardly a creature in this world that scares him, but ever since he pinned that woman to the wall and caught sight of her soul, fright has been like an unshakeable cold shiver clinging to the back of his neck.

She made him weak. Soft. A mockery of his old self. He’d hoped it was nothing but a short-lasting infatuation or his lust. Turned out neither was the case. His soul yearned for more than her body. He was actually wondering about her thoughts towards him, how she feels, what she wants. The little what-ifs. What if she continues to refuse him? What if she chooses someone else?

His eyes landed on Papyrus as his thoughts catapulted back to him admitting he was alone with her this day, jealousy leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

Mustard. He could really use some right now to stifle these damn infuriating thoughts.

“WE TALKED, NOTHING MORE.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sans asked after Papyrus continued talking, disbelief tainting the tone in his voice while his drunken state encouraged him to be bold and petty. Any man would have some provocative thoughts if a pretty woman was alone in the car with them, including himself. Especially himself. There isn’t a chance in hell that everything stayed pure and innocent during that ride, he refused to believe it. “So what did cha talk about then, hm? The _weather_?”

“AS A MATTER OF FACT, WE DID.”

Sans blinked at the honest sounding answer Papyrus gave without missing a beat. Is he serious? Of course he is serious… This is Papyrus, the well mannered murderous saint. Of course he talked about vanilla subjects like the damn weather with a woman. Fuck, what is he even worried about? He has no reason to be paranoid about his own brother, yet here he was… Worrying, glaring, speculating, wallowing while drunk.

“BUT, WE ALSO TALKED ABOUT YOU.”

Oh. 

He rose his head slightly up from his arms to frown at his brother, hardly able to shake off the surprise and flaring curiosity before he managed to shrug and ran a hand across his skull. It took every ounce of focus he had to keep up the facade that this didn’t bother and intrigue him, hoping his little lady hadn’t said too much to Papyrus. 

“Gossipin’ about ya big bro, huh? I didn’t take ya for the type, Paps,” he chuckled dryly and shifted on the chair, the piece of furniture whining under his weight and size. His attempt at a joke didn’t land well as Papyrus neither smiled nor responded to it, his serious aura unnerving the drunk skeleton. “What did she have to say about me then? Somethin’ about my handsome looks? How devilish to the bone I am? How she likes my warm and lovin’ smile?” He laughed again after showing off his grin. “Though, judging by ya long face, I can already guess it ain’t much good.”

Papyrus was about to touch his pointy chin before realizing it was a joke rather than a remark about his sharply shaped skull, his raised hand clenching before he dropped it with a sigh. “IT WAS A MIXED BAG. SHE CALLED YOU PUSHY. STUBBORN. INTRUSIVE. AND LASTLY, ROUGH.”

He could feel it; like sins crawling on his back. His nerves were rattling. A thick red-tinted bead of sweat began to form on the top of his head and steadily crept downwards, surprised the human had been open and honest to Papyrus. Then again… her soul embodied honesty, so he should have expected it. 

She wasn’t too far off, though. In fact, she was fairly spot on but Papyrus didn’t need to know that, and Sans sure wasn’t going to verbally admit or agree to having acted as such.

“SHE DOESN’T COME ACROSS AS A LIAR. SHE HAS YET TO GIVE ME A REASON NOT TO TRUST HER,” Papyrus said before he lightly touched his knee, slowly and thoughtfully tapping it with a finger while he looked at it with a hint of melancholy. “SO TELL ME, SANS. IS THERE SOMETHING GOING ON BETWEEN YOU AND THE HUMAN?”

All Sans could do was scowl. “Tsh, ya Wingdings all of a sudden? What makes ya think there's somethin', if anythin’, between me and the flower girl?” 

“BECAUSE YOU ARE GETTING INCREASINGLY MORE DEFENSIVE, AND I AM FAIRLY CERTAIN IT ISN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DRUNK.”

Sans huffed and clicked his tongue as he frustratingly averted his wavering glare. Papyrus is right; he is on the defensive. He needs to watch himself or he might just give away what is really going on. Still… He sighed and laid his head back on his arms, grumbling,” come on, Paps, ya heard her yaself; she ain't exactly fond of me.” Oh, she was fond of him. He _knew_ she was, no matter what she told Papyrus or how hard she denies it. 

“THAT’S WHERE YOU ARE MISTAKEN. DURING OUR TALK, SHE CONFIDED IN ME THAT YOU SHOWED A GOOD SIDE TO HER. NOW, I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT SIDE THAT COULD POSSIBLY BE, GIVEN HOW YOU CAN BE, BUT THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID.”

See, he knew it. His grin grew with the increasing pulsing of his soul, his longing for the human burning far too hot. He had kept his distance from her since their last meeting, wallowed in his self pity and forced himself not to pay her another nightly visit, all because he is a coward towards his own feelings. But this confession… He can’t wait to see her again and hear her voice, perhaps go a step further.

“LISTEN, SANS,” Papyrus continued after he leaned forward to rest himself on his legs, sounding serious. “WINGDINGS ALSO SPOKE OF HER EARLIER AFTER I GAVE HIM MY REPORT ON TODAY’S STAKEOUT.”

“For fuck’s sake, what’s he whinin’ about now?” Sans grumbled, his excitement dwindling at the mention of the eldest Gaster. Why the fuck would Wings talk about her with Papyrus? It makes no sense. He hardly knows the woman, hasn’t even met her yet. Right? And why is Papyrus even bringing it up?

“YOU KNOW HIM. HE IS STRAIGHT TO THE POINT AND A NO NONSENSE MONSTER. HE BELIEVES ANYONE NOT USEFUL TO HIM IS DISTRACTING. NOT WORTH HIS OR OUR TIME. HE CONSIDERS THE HUMAN EMILY BAXTER TO BE A DISTRACTING LIABILITY.”

Well, he isn’t exactly wrong. Sans for one, was very distracted by her but he wouldn’t call her a liability, or useless. He reveled in the distraction and couldn't get enough of it; he was distracted right now by the hungering want to have her. But Wingdings views many monsters and humans in this negative light, so why her specifically? Because she works for Eddie and crossed paths with the Gasters?

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME, BUT I KNOW SOMETHING IS GOING ON BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU. NO MATTER WHAT IT IS, IF WINGDINGS FINDS OUT ABOUT IT, IT WON’T END WELL.”

Sans couldn’t help but cruelly snicker, his broad shoulders shaking with the sound. “Seriously, Paps. Since when do I care about what Wingdings says or does? I’ll do whatever I damn well please, be it her or someone else. Human or monster, I don’t fuckin’ care; it ain’t his business.”

Papyrus sighed. “HE THREATENED ME TOO, SANS. IT ISN’T JUST YOUR CASE HE IS ON ALL THE TIME.”

“What, he thinks ya have a human sweetheart, you of all monsters? _Hah_, he don’t know ya well enough then.” Sans grinned but he only did it to hide the pang of annoyance which stabbed him in the gut. There was a little too much focus on the fact that Papyrus spent time alone with her, and he was burning to know what truly happened during that meeting. She had been kind to his little brother before, with giving him a flower and all. A flower he laid value in and was silently upset about after he lost it.

“SHE IS NOT--! OH, NEVER MIND,” Papyrus bit before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed once more, deeply this time. He shook his head as his leather-clad fingertips wandered to his forehead, saying more subdued,” JUST BE CAREFUL. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID WITH HER.”

“Stupid? Heh, what kind of stupid are we talkin’ about here?”

“_WHAT KIND DO YOU THINK_?!” Papyrus glared at Sans before groaning when Sans did nothing but snicker at his little outburst. He was so easy to tease and fool, especially when he was being serious. “WHAT I AM SAYING IS THAT YOU SHOULDN’T MESS AROUND WITH THE HUMAN LIKE YOU HAVE BEEN DOING. SHE IS A FRIE--ALLY. SHE’S AN ALLY, LIKE EDWARD. WE NEED OUR ALLIES, SANS, ESPECIALLY WITH ASGORE CLAIMING TERRITORY ON THE SURFACE. WE HAVE FAR TOO FEW.”

_Ah shit... She got to ya, didn’t she?_

Sans’ grin lost its sharp edge upon hearing Papyrus’ little slip-up, the corners of his mouth drooping. It seems both the younger Gasters had a soft spot for the florist in some form, and he wasn’t too certain if to be troubled about it, or be happy with the fact they have something in common. A friend… An ally. She definitely was more than that to Sans, and he hoped such wasn’t the case for Papyrus.

“WE’LL BE HEADING BACK TO THE SURFACE AFTER THE WEEKEND, TO MEET UP WITH EDWARD AND DELIVER HIM HIS NEW TRUCK. WHEN WE DO, TRY TO BE SOBER AND NOT MAKE WHATEVER IS GOING ON BETWEEN YOU AND THE HUMAN WOMAN MORE COMPLICATED. IF WINGDINGS FINDS OUT…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Sans muttered as he buried his face away against his arms, gritting his teeth as he couldn't stomach the irritating feeling of envy and anger wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. “I get it…” he muttered again, regretting he drank too much mustard; his skull was starting to hurt.

If it was anyone else, he would have already summoned all the bones in his arsenal to be rid of the threat, turn the threat into a bloody or dusty pin cushion. He claimed her; she was his and he won’t let anyone interfere. Unfortunately, it is his brother who is the threat and he was royally pissed at that. How large of a threat was he though? How big of a cockblock will he be? And Wingdings… Fuck, why are his own brothers working against him?

He really hated this.

Papyrus rose a leg to nudge the chair with a foot, the heel of his shoe tapping against the nearest leg. “YOU BETTER NOT FALL ASLEEP IN THAT CHAIR. I DON’T WANT YOU KEEPING ME UP WITH YOUR AWFUL SNORING. IT’S WORSE WHEN YOU ARE DRUNK.”

Sans stuck his middle finger up to flip Papyrus off while he kept his face hidden against his crossed arms, the broad golden ring embracing the thick finger glinting tauntingly in the bedroom’s light. He couldn’t help to chuckle when Papyrus’ typical angry and loud inhale of air could be heard, already preparing himself for what was coming.

“DID YOU JUST--?! WHAT THE HELL, SANS? GO TO YOUR ROOM!” The tall skeleton growled as he gave the chair a kick, the piece of furniture not moving with Sans weighing it down.

Sans slightly raised his head and lay the still held up middle finger against his grin while one of his sockets closed to wink, saying mockingly,” mind yaself there, Paps. Ya might just wake up Wings and not be gettin’ any sleep tonight.” He snickered at Papyrus’ heated grumble before he pushed himself up from the chair and wandered towards the door with slouched shoulders. “But fine, my bed is comfier than ya shitty chair anyway. I’ll leave ya with ya make believe sweetheart.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, SHE IS NOT--!”

The rest of the sentence was drowned out with the closing of the door, though anyone could easily guess what he was about to say. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. Sans hoped it was because he really doesn’t want to fight with his brother over this. If he has to though, he will and like all the times before, he won’t hold back. But that was a worry for later…

The impending hangover was a far bigger worry, the regret he felt for drinking and eating the spicy mustard becoming heavier as he went to his room, the hour had grown late. Papyrus was right; he best sober up before the weekend ends and he gets to see his flower girl again.


	9. Of Men and Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time around.

It really is getting colder these days. Emily pulled her shoulders up to huddle a little into her coat and scarf while she gazed up at the trees lining the street. The late autumn weather had stripped nearly all branches from their orange and yellow foliage but the pleasant colors still adorned the parks of Edge City. The skies were clear this day, the sun shining against her back and giving her some warmth.

She liked autumn as the weather wasn’t too hot and neither cold, but she knew it was bad for business. The arrangement of flowers available for sale in the shop already dwindled a little, though thanks to stove heated greenhouses, some types of flowers could still be grown and sold during the more chilly seasons. Not exactly cheap though… Mr. Franklin recently started complaining about the steep increase in prices for the more difficult-to-acquire flowers, and had mused out loud that it might be better to look into importing flowers from the Underground, as it was cheaper but still exotic. She had a feeling Papyrus was behind putting those thoughts into the old florist’s head.

Speaking of the tall skeleton, she expected to see him before the weekend rolled in, yet neither of the Gasters paid the shop a visit. A shame, really; she was actually looking forward to seeing her new friend again. But even so, she had been tense during the evenings and nights spent at home, afraid to find Papyrus’ brother lurking in the shadows with perverted intentions. As far as she was aware, no skeleton had entered her home ever since that peculiar night, which was a relief in itself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about him. The saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ didn’t exactly work, not with Sans involved.

He was the reason as to why she wasn’t certain about today, having her doubts to meet up with William. Sans’ warning refused to leave her thoughts, and so did the shame. There was no ignoring or denying she had been intimate with a monster, a monster who made all too clear that she was his. So why is she going on a date with someone else?

She knew why.

No matter what was done to her Soul, she is still human. She needs to love and be with another human to survive in this world and stay sane, or so she told herself. William might just be the right guy to keep her grounded in this awful place. No mafia, no monsters, no violence, no pain… As Mr. Franklin said, if he can grant her such a life, she should take it without question and hesitation. However, hesitation wasn’t so easily shaken off… It burned inside of her.

Hopefully, this meeting will prove everything will be fine, that there is no reason to be plagued by worries and far too many terrifying ‘what if’s.

Her gaze no longer lingered on the trees and their few leaves, instead peering down the street to catch a glimpse of her so-called date. Is this even a date…? Whatever it is, William was a little late. Cars continued to pass by, the park behind her fairly quiet in comparison to the street. The doubts were louder than the car engines, especially when the hope that she won’t see a specific red car drive by crossed her mind. Sans better not find out about this… 

A sudden tap on her shoulder made her flinch, her fear snapping into her like a bear trap. She quickly turned her head to see who it was that touched her, her panic wondering if it was the skeleton she couldn’t stop thinking about. Did he find her? Please no, not now… 

She blinked in startle when she caught sight of that charming smile past the edge of her hat, her fears to be facing a vexed skeleton fading away at the sight of William. He looked a little sheepish and sounded out of breath, his sun-kissed cheeks red. Did he run?

“I made it,” he chuckled as he took off his cap and ran his hand over his forehead and dark brown hair. “I am sorry I am late, if I am. I had to finish up an errand and it took a little longer than expected. I came here as fast as I could.”

The relief she felt made her smile, though it was small as she felt the unwanted tinge of disappointment buzzing in her chest. It made her angry. “You aren’t late at all,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the man and the way he put his flat cap back on, noticing his arm was still in a sling. And not just his arm, from the looks of it… She rose a brow at the small bundle of flowers hiding in the sling his arm rested in, the sight of them warming her cheeks.

Oh no, he actually brought flowers… Why wasn’t that a good thing?

He noticed her looking, or better put, staring, and quickly turned himself away while nervously laughing. “Ahh, I forgot--I mean, I figured you wouldn’t notice them so quickly, but umm,” he stammered after trying to rehide the flowers but he seemed to give up on that idea as he slowly turned back and took the small bundle from his sling. “As promised.”

She accepted the flowers with natural politeness when he awkwardly gave her the tiny bouquet, the sight of them melting the icy layer which was present around her heart. Daisies and baby’s breath… He even got the colors right. She honestly can’t say no to flowers, can she? Perhaps they’ll be her downfall someday but hopefully not today.

Still, it was nice of him to get her flowers and make the extra little effort to also follow her advice on what kind of flowers to give for a platonic first date. 

“You, uhh… You can lay them by the monument if you want. Speaking of which, shall we?”

Emily nodded while quietly agreeing with his suggestion. While she looked forward to spending time with William, she wasn’t all that excited to be here. Paranoia reigned hard, and so did the shame. Even though it's nice of him, she can’t accept these flowers, not after what happened between her and Sans… Leaving them to honor the sacrifice seemed more reasonable. “They’re still lovely, thank you,” she honestly said, eager to get away from the crowded street as she began to venture further into the park.

“Of course!” William beamed as he followed after her, soon catching up to stay by her side. “I know it’s been only a week, but how have you been? You look well.”

“So do you,” she complimented back. “I’ve been decent, simply been busy at the shop. How is your arm?”

William looked at the sling which was partially covered by his coat. “It is healing. I can’t use my arm yet, or place weight on my shoulder, but I am starting to be able to flex my fingers and hold things. Just a few weeks more before I can say goodbye to the sling, I reckon.”

Emily frowned as she eyed it while they walked down the tiled path towards the center of the park. “It must have been a bad accident if your arm takes so long to heal…”

“Ah, heh, yes… It was,” he sounded a little uncomfortable, not to mention nervous but his smile returned fairly quickly. “But that’s in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore. I rather focus on my recovery, you know?”

She kept the curiosity she felt quiet as she nodded, knowing it isn’t her business. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder as to why he withheld on the details, especially with him being giddy to see her. It must have been an embarrassing accident or the likes. She’ll respect that.

“I didn’t ask before, and I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s the shop you work at called?”

Emily looked up from gently pawing flowers while they walked, smiling. “A Dozen Daisies For You. It’s a small shop in Lowtown.”

“That’s actually a cute name. Is that why you suggested daisies to me?” William asked, sounding a little teasing as he knew that obviously wasn’t the case. His expression softened when she hid an inward embarrassed chuckle behind the fingers she lay against her smile, the small bouquet she held lowering. Seems the answer was either maybe or no. “But Lowtown, huh…?” he continued to keep the conversation going. “I’ve recently been hearing things about that neighborhood. Do you get a lot of monster customers?”

She frowned at the question, particularly the monster part, her heart skipping a beat at the thoughts and memories it brought forth. “Oh, no, they don’t care much for Surface flowers.” The tall skeleton crossed her mind. Papyrus may have had his little remarks about flowers, but he seemed to like red carnations. Maybe because it was a gift? “The only monsters visiting the shop are the landlords.”

“Monster landlords? That’s new…. But that does put weight behind what I’ve been hearing. Do they drop by often?”

Emily brought a finger up to her cheek after she slightly tilted her head to the side, the long thoughtful hum she let out sounding indecisive. 

“Not very often,” she answered, thinking back about their visits to the shop, even the most recent one. The final memory made her cheeks glow and her chest thump with a hot flush, her pace of walking faltering with a slight stumble after she felt the tingle between her legs. She played it off well, or she liked to believe she did, for William didn’t react to it. She inhaled deeply through her nose while she forced herself to smile to hide the fluster, asking as she tucked some loose strands under her hat,“ why do you ask…?”

William’s smile twinged and betrayed the hint of a grimace. “No particular reason. Or, well, I… I hope they understand humans enough to be decent to you. The shop, I mean! To the shop, and your boss. And you.” He cleared his throat before he laughed a little sheepish, obviously nervous. Emily found that a little endearing.

“Thank you…”

They smiled at each other before looking at the monument before them, the statue gracing the center of the round square; they were here. 

The statue was large, elevated on a stone pedestal upon which seven bronze children stood and pointed eastward. They were young, their likeness carved with impressive detail in their faces. They wore even their hospital gowns, having braved the elements and seasons for five years together while always greeting the sun and pointing towards Mt. Ebott.

Emily’s spirits dampened ever so slightly after she gazed up to the children before she left William’s side and lay the small bouquet by the feet of the monument with a few other flowers people had left, the plaque with the children’s names carved into it catching her attention. She quickly read them before softly sighing.

It was thanks to these children that monsters now walked among humans, and that humans could freely go into the Underground if they dared or wanted to do so. It was liberty for all that day but it didn’t come without consequences. Was the rise in crime and misery foreseen by those who planned the Barrier’s removal, or did it take them by surprise as it did the people of Edge City?

“Do you think people would have been happier if these children were never sacrificed?”

William came closer and looked at Emily rather than the bronze children, his brown eyes resting on her melancholic expression as he asked,” what do you mean?”

She took a deep breath while she looked at the youngest of the sacrificed children, a little girl holding a stuffed bunny. “I sometimes wonder if life would have been better if the Barrier was never lowered. You told me things changed for the better for you but, when looking at the bigger picture, was it really worth it? There is so much unrest in the city, even five years after…” 

He seemed to mull her words over. “There already was unrest in the city, though. We just never saw it before.”

“True, but… Lowering the Barrier made us humans paranoid. Greedy. There are gangs everywhere.” She thought about the mobsters with the yellow ties, the ones Papyrus warned her about. And then, Sans and his brother. Monsters and humans alike were duking it out and for what? “They are fighting over territory which doesn’t even belong to them, and it hurts this city. It hurts the people.” The wall filled with missing and wanted posters she gazed upon but a few days ago crossed her mind, the memory of those blank grey eyes bringing forth a sense of nausea.

“Yeah…” William stuck his hand in a pocket as he finally looked at the statue rather than the woman standing beside him, sighing through his nose. A thoughtful silence followed as neither carried on with the conversation about gangsters and other types of criminals, though he was the one to break it. “I sometimes think that life would be easier for everyone, including monsters, if mages still existed.”

Mages? Now that was something different, something more mystical than depressing like mobsters and what they were doing to the city.

“Do you truly think they are all gone?”

He raised a brow before he looked at her, weakly shrugging. “I can’t say for certain, of course. The rumors heavily lean towards them being extinct; there hasn’t been news about a human wielding magic in so long. Besides, the sacrifice of these children sure made it seem like there was no capable mage around to dismiss the Barrier.”

Emily nodded,” that crossed my mind as well…”

Truly, whatever happened to the mages, to magic among the humans? She lay a hand lightly against her chest when she thought about it, her experience with magic only of the monster kind. She saw it with her own eyes, she even felt it encasing her Soul. Sans’ magic hurt and was terrifying to behold, but it did expose the truth that humans had grown out of touch with themselves, that they had forgotten all about what they were capable of once upon a time. 

“Though.” She looked at him when he let out a chuckle and once more placed his attention on her, seeing him holding a crooked smile that betrayed misplaced bashfulness. “After meeting you, I have a feeling they are still among us.”

She looked confused, not fully understanding what he was getting at until he bent down to get a little closer with his natural charming smile, causing her to lean slightly back to keep a distance, no matter small.

“With eyes like yours, are you sure you aren’t a mage?”

Her face turned a tint pinker after she stared at him before breaking it with a blink, her lips firmly pressing together to fight back the heated fluster his words brought forth. Her two-colored eyes averted to not see his reaction to the blush spreading across her cheeks and nose, anxiously wondering about the man and his compliment. Or jest…. Definitely a jest.

“I am pretty sure, yes,” she said, a little forced to try and sound casual but there was a crack which betrayed her fluster to him and it only made him smile wider, the man laughing softly. That didn’t exactly help with her keeping her composure. All she could mentally see was her blue Soul, almost dripping and merging with the deep red of Sans’. That was the only magic she had ever been capable of, and it wasn’t even her own.

She involuntarily shuddered at the memory, the feelings it brought along out place during this so-called date. She shouldn’t be here… Not after that night and that day at the back of the shop. It wasn’t fair to William. To her… 

_Fuck you, Sans. This is all your fault._

“Magic is just for monsters,” she muttered as she looked back at the seven children made of bronze, trying to distract herself from getting annoyed with the skeleton who wasn’t even there. Why could monsters never be discussed without any discontent? Or without the awful memories or thoughts the mere mention of them bring up? She hated it.

He nodded, unaware of her internal struggle or what she was thinking about. “I wouldn’t say it is just for them, but that seems the case these days. At least they aren’t exploiting it.”

That wasn’t fully true. Her mind was overflowing with Sans’ abuse of his own magic, how he uses it to have his way with her. Who is to say it is just him? Surely more monsters were just as wicked or vile, thirsty with the power they possessed?

A sudden realization hit her and made her swallow. Oh God, she really can’t think of anything else than monsters, magic and Souls, particularly her own and that of the one monster who kept weighing down on her. Every thought was tainted by them.

This is wrong. 

Emily grimaced when she turned to William, looking torn and thoughtful. It caught him off guard, his gentle expression fading into a look of concern. “I think our meeting today was a mistake,” she said softly, her head lowering to hide herself inside her hat while her blue and brown colored gaze rested on the brickwork below their feet. “I am sorry.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” William’s concerned look intensified before he reached with a hand to Emily, wanting to touch her shoulder or take her hand but he did neither. “Was it something I said? Or did?... It was the flowers, wasn’t it? I knew it was too much. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”

_No, no, that isn’t it. Please._

She shook her head as she inwardly pleaded to William to not blame himself any further, giving a voice to it. “It isn’t anything you’ve done, I promise. I-I shouldn't be here.” She cast a glance around when she felt the paranoia once more cling to her back, hoping to not find what she was fearing at this very moment.

“Why not? What’s wrong?”

What to even answer? She didn’t want to talk about it. This whole meeting, this date… it was a farce. It wasn’t just her thoughts which were tainted by monsters and magic, it was her whole being. Her body, her Soul, her mind; everything. She has no right to get infatuated with this man, a human who seemed to actually care about her.

All she could do was shake her head before she flinched with a choked breath when he finally took her hand and lightly held it, his brown eyes piercing through her with concern but also something dark. “Did someone hurt you? Is that why you are afraid?”

Why did these questions make her want to run away? She’s an honest person, she isn’t afraid of the truth. So why is she shaking and ready to flee?

William’s eyes narrowed when she didn’t answer vocally, neither did his hardened expression let up. She didn’t need to say it, by the looks of it; she was as readable as an open book. He spoke softly and slowly,” I promise it is okay. Whatever it is, nothing bad will happen to you. I won’t let it, not while you’re with me.” 

Her shoulders drooped as she listened, though the shaking of her head was sign enough that his reassurances weren’t enough. She shouldn’t be here because all that was in her heart and Soul were the greedy possessive claws of a skeletal monster. It was not fair to William… So why isn’t she walking away already?

“But, if you truly want to go, I just want to tell you that you made me a very happy man by agreeing to meet me here. Honest. I know I am blunt and straightforward, but… you seem like a wonderful woman, Emily. You shouldn’t feel like you’re feeling now; you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

_You don’t know that. You don’t know me. Please..._

She lightly touched her forehead while her head continued to shake, her eyes closed to not see the world. To not see him. He was right though… She didn’t do anything to deserve the torment and conflicting feelings she has endured these past two weeks, and yet, here she was… 

“Hey…”

Her eyes slightly opened when William gently cooed to get her attention, seeing his charming but caring smile through her trembling eyelashes.

“Why don’t we go elsewhere, get off the street? Somewhere more comfortable; I know this lovely little place not far from here that serves good food. We can talk over coffee about whatever you want, have some lunch. You don’t have to talk about what’s wrong; I just want you to feel safe and better.”

Why does he care so much? With all the bad luck she has with men in her life, why were William and Papyrus different? This guy shouldn’t be this kind to her and yet he was for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She wanted to believe it wasn’t a ruse, that William was indeed different, that he could keep her grounded in this messed up world.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter, unable to shake off the guilt and shame but she was drawn to this man’s kindness. Was it wrong to want someone to care about you, especially someone who had yet to hurt you in any way? “I am sorry…”

William brightened up when she didn’t object to his suggestions and neither walked away, still holding her hand. “No harm done,” he nodded as he released her hand and gestured with an arm down one of the paths leading away from the monument. “We all have our little demons; I won’t judge you for them.”

She walked with him with a subdued demeanor, quietly listening to what he had to say as he kept the conversation going to keep anything dark and brooding away. She was fine with it, her heart and mind still a tangled mess. She instead focused on his voice to seek comfort in it and let it soothe her inner convictions towards herself and Sans.

“So…. This place I was talking about, it’s a small cafe. I know someone who works in the kitchen there during the weekdays; he recommended it to me when I told him I would be in the neighborhood today.” He laughed a little embarrassed. “That’s not true, sorry. He recommended it after he learned I was meeting someone. Guess I got a little excited, heh… But, I’m sure you’ll love their baguettes, or the soup.”

He kept on rambling but she listened, even if she didn’t say anything in return. She did give him a small weak smile when he corrected himself, aware of the excitement he timidly mentioned. He was just like the puppy dog he was last weekend, just happy to be talking to her. She had to admit it was a strange feeling but she couldn’t help to indulge. She wanted to feel better, to no longer think about matters which had no business during this moment. Was that selfish?

They left the park through one of the smaller exits while she quietly questioned herself about morals before William carried on talking. “Maybe someday I’ll work in a kitchen too. It seems nice. Better than running around for errands. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I enjoy the freedom, the people I meet and all the places I get to see, even if it is just Edge City.”

“Would you leave if you had the chance?”

He frowned at the sudden question. “Not really, no. This city has everything I need; work, living spaces, people.”

She nodded, understanding his reasoning but she felt it; the answer disappointed her a little. She would love to leave if it were possible. Start her own flower shop elsewhere, far from here in a small town which wasn’t overrun by criminals, perhaps start a family. She didn’t share the dream with William though, not feeling ready to share something she held close to her heart. 

“I grew up here, this is my home. I don’t know anywhere else,” he explained before he slowed down and looked down the sidewalk they were walking along, his dark eyebrows knitting together underneath his flat cap.

A ruckus had drawn his attention, and Emily’s too. There was shouting up ahead, the few people present on the sidewalk stepping aside or being pushed out of the way by three cops, appearing to be chasing after something… or someone.

Emily didn’t notice it at first, the creature running ahead of the police officers fairly short. A monster… It was the yellow of their skin which gave them away, along with the wildly swaying bag held in their mouth and the spiky tail which kept them stable as they had no arms to swing. Their loose shoelaces danced across the ground in the monster’s wake while the empty rolled up and pinned sleeves bounced. 

“Stop, thief!”

William quickly pulled Emily aside when the lizard-like monster ran past them and the cops were about to barge between them and elbow them away, holding her by her arm while they watched the cops continue to give chase. 

A startled gasp left Emily and an onlooker or two when the armless monster tripped over their too large shoes and the untied laces, skitting chin first across the pavement while the bag and its contents sprawled across the sidewalk. Bread, even apples. It was all just food that rolled or bounced away.

The cops were quick to surround the monster with a loud “_We got ya now!_” and “_Thought ya could give us the slip, did ya?_” before they started to smack the poor downed thing with their long batons, hammering down at them while they recoiled and screamed. One of the officers even started to kick the creature, not holding back.

Emily looked mortified after she clasped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide as she witnessed what looked like a child or a young teenager getting beaten by the authority of this city. She knew the police force was corrupt, her father was proof of it, but to see it like this… It was sickening. And it wasn’t just them.

Onlookers started to crowd around the three cops and the downed monster child, their painful cries nearly drowned out by the racial slurs and approval some of these humans spat out. _Freak. Monster. Rancid animal._ They were cheering the cops on… 

She instinctively jolted forward to rush to the poor monster’s side but the fingers wrapped around her arm held her in place. 

“There is nothing you can do,” William said, his words sending a wave of helplessness crashing over her. He tugged on her arm and turned her around, away from the injustice before he lay the arm around her shoulders and forced her to walk. 

She didn’t want to, putting up some resistance but she walked with him when he showed no sign of letting her dive into the madness.

“Don’t look back,” he softly said, his face betraying he was struggling to walk away as well but he was strong enough to be logical. He carried on with a stern but fast pace, pulling her along while the cries continued to ring behind them.

She looked back anyway, the curtain of welling tears shielding her from seeing the horrifying sight but it was already too late; she had seen enough already. 

Fuck this city… Fuck this awful evil city and the people who lived in it.


End file.
